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bottom_dracoTitle: Silent Dreams
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
olimakiella
Prompt: #057 bys0ulrunner
Pairing(s):H/D, Slight Ronald/Blaise
Summary: The land of Slytherin has always been highly sought for its riches. When old fashioned murder does not work, its neighbouring lands will stop at nothing to get their hands on it.
Rating: Very light R
Previous part
If he thought he would feel better come breakfast, he was mistaken. Once Zacharias came in and asked him what he thought, all he could do was stammer and blush. Even though he was not sitting next to her, he could still feel Queen Cho’s disapproving stare.
“Well, you get another chance to see him today.”
“What?” Harry said perhaps a little too loud. Harry watched the doors open and saw a procession of musical instruments being brought inside, the musicians already playing a tune. Next to him, he heard Zacharias chuckle.
Harry frowned and glanced between Zacharias and the group filling the hall in front of him. “Because they could not perform last night, I told them they would do it this morning.” He seemed excited when he saw his two main dancers. “This was my mother’s favourite story.”
Harry felt himself get distracted by the man that had visited him last night. He tried and failed to fight the blush that he knew was creeping up his cheeks. The blond was joined by the young woman he’d met outside in the courtyard yesterday. Both of them looked so alike it was hard to tell the difference. Their fair hair was styled the same way and their faces were made up with dark kohl around their eyes. “It’s about how the lines of royalty and normalcy often blur and the only difference is the responsibility they hold with their power.” Zacharias shrugged. “It’s a little womanish but it’s pleasing to the eye.”
Harry could definitely understand that. The only difference between the two dancers was their clothing. Luna, if he remembered correctly, was dressed like many women he had seen at court. The material was a rich blue tone that made her eyes shine. The dress was skin-tight from her chest to her hips before flowing down to her ankles. Slits were cut all the way up to her hips on both sides. The man that he remembered covered in gold the night prior, with those slate grey eyes, was dressed in the same blue but the material was simple wool. His tunic fell to mid thigh and skin-tight woollen breeches stretched to his feet.
“I asked your mother what her favourite story was and she said it was the same thing so I suppose my point is proven. She says it’s because of morals and something about your father instilling the same thing in you but I still think it’s too feminine.”
Harry glanced at his mother, who was sitting next to him and saw her proud smile, obviously hearing what Zacharias had said. He smiled back.
The dancers parted from the line of musicians taking their places in the centre of the hall. Their legs stretched out either side and bent at the knee, their hands together as if in prayer. Harry saw there were many bangles on each of their limbs. They jangled as they moved forward but where they were coloured gold and sparkling on Luna they were metallic and dull on the man. Like shackles of gold and steel. He appreciated the irony knowing that being royalty was both a gift and a curse.
He had a feeling he would like this story. It was too bad Queen Cho did not seem so happy about it, her eyes narrowing at the pair in front of her. Their arms were reaching high, fingers spread, heads tilting back as they began to move.
“It tells the tale of how the rich and the poor are alike in so many ways in whatever they do.” He listened to his mother narrate, her voice a presence in the back of his mind. Through it, he saw her words enacted before him in fluid grace. The steps were coherent, making sense and adding to the story. The pair took mirrored halted steps away from each other, the difficulty showing pain and struggle. It was as if every step forward was blocked by some impediment. They moved backward easier and then entered the others’ space to see if moving there would be any easier.
Their position put the blond man staring at him. “They now get to see if life on the other side is any better.” Turning from Harry, the blond man began to swing his hips, his hands moving over his body and through his hair. The seductive grace, the twisting and turning, completely in sync to Luna, it made Harry swallow and turn to Zacharias. “How are they able to move in such synchronicity?”
Zacharias shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly as the blond man turned toward them. Grey eyes focused on him solely and Harry felt his mouth go dry. Those eyes were piercing and they seemed to see straight through him reminding him so much of the night before. “They use no magic but what they do... it is magical is it not?” Harry nodded, unable to look away from the pair of eyes that stared at him. They followed him as the pair jumped apart and a loud bang of the drum had the music ceasing.
The two stopped as they landed, their bodies halting so suddenly that everything else jerked forward, even the audience, surprised as they were. Their hair flew forward encasing their faces and they held still while the music was absent for a while, showing just how strong their bodies really were. Harry met the sheltered gaze of the man and narrowed his own in wonderment. There was anger in there. He did not understand it but he was very curious to find out what was behind it.
Suddenly, the slow haunting tune of the violin had the blond’s arms and hands stretching forward, reaching for something in Harry’s direction. His leg stretched out behind him for balance. Harry sat back. He almost felt as if the man was reaching for him. Before long, however, the man caught it, dragging it in toward his chest. The dull grey bangles around his wrists jangled against each other as they were jostled with the movement. Vacantly, Harry noticed Luna was doing the same thing. Both of them turned their heads to the ceiling as the music slowed down, their hair in their faces, and rose whatever it was in their hands to the sky. There was exaltation and yearning in their movements. Harry could plainly see the representation of both classes, simultaneously happy and needy with their lot in life.
As the music slowed and then ceased there was a round of applause as the dancers and musicians bowed and curtsied. Harry’s mother stood up, as did Zacharias, so Harry did the same. Soon the hall followed suit.
“Where did you find them?”
Zacharias shrugged. “Some were born and bred in Ravenclaw. Others were prisoners held captive for petty crimes. They struck a deal and follow orders as a means to stay out of jail.”
“The man,” Harry gestured as they sat down. House elves walked around them, laying out plate of breakfast foods. “Is it true he cannot speak?” he asked as the musicians were packing up to leave the hall.
Zacharias grinned. “Not a word for the years I have had him. And not for the lack of trying, I assure you.” He turned to Harry taking note of his stare. “You have an interest in him. I told you that you would.” Harry’s eyes snapped to him to see that smug smile. His eyes narrowed, angry at himself for falling into Zacharias’ trap. “He went to your room last night, did you like him?” An eyebrow cocked at him, Harry could not fight the blush that stained his cheeks. A slow steady smile was his answer. “I shall take that as a yes.” His fingers snapped and a Hufflepuff guard came to him before Harry had a chance to speak and left to follow the dancers. Harry was mortified but watched as the guard caught the man at the doors. “He shall go again tonight.”
The conversation was one sided, but Harry watched carefully as the message was relayed. Those expressive grey eyes narrowed, and there was almost, almost refusal… but then a brisk nod followed in acceptance. Harry’s heart nearly stopped.
What had he gotten himself into?
***
It was with trembling hands that Harry mounted his usual horse Griffin for his ride out of the castle to escort Zacharias and his company out of his domain. The dream that had followed the dancer’s departure the night before had shaken him in more than one way. He’d not had such an erotic dream since he was in his teens and thinking of nothing but girls. His father’s death had put a pause on his libido and inheriting a country pretty much killed it entirely. He’d woken up harder than he had in years and had come even harder. He couldn’t wait for Zacharias and his party to leave, let him get a hold of himself. There was a war going on, even if it was not actively taking place. He had to get his priorities in order.
Finishing with the final buckle, he looked to the side and then again as he saw Zacharias walking up to him with one of the horses from the stables. He frowned. “What are you doing down here?”
“I will ride with you.” He smiled.
Harry looked around to his guards. “And who authorised this?” None of them came forward.
Zacharias rolled his eyes and mounted the brown steed. “I am a King no one authorises anything for me, Harry, you know that.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Why?” He spoke it as a statement.
Zacharias steadied himself. “Because I want to ride with you. You will get your horse back.” Another heavy sigh. It seemed he did it far too often where Zacharias was concerned. There was nothing he could do. Besides, it would not do him any harm.
He signalled his guards and they rode to the courtyard. The carriages were assembled, ready and waiting for departure. He could see the group of entertainers in the back securing their instruments and finally shutting the doors. He knew the silent man would be in there and forced his eyes away from the procession of carriages. Unfortunately, that had him looking at Zacharias. The smug bastard was grinning at him.
“Looking for somebody?” Harry narrowed his eyes at him and Zacharias’ grin dimmed to a small smile. “My wife is angry at me. She was hoping for peace. Probably more than I was.” The carriages began moving, and the guards both followed and led them out of the courtyard gates and into the open air. The road they took ran through the town and then out into the west side of the forest. From the moors, they would part ways. “She laid into me something fierce for not fighting harder for the treaty to be signed.”
Harry scoffed lightly, glad the conversation had turned. “Women can be like that.”
A slight nod. “Yeah.” Zacharias looked around. “I find it difficult to speak with her these days. She is always angry at me.”
Harry stared at him quizzically. “Why are you telling me this?”
Zacharias shrugged, still not looking at him. Harry guessed it was embarrassment. He and Ginevra had had their fair share of arguments, he’d not liked confiding in others either. That was probably the reason he always went to his mother. He watched the other King sadly. He didn’t have either parent. “What else does she say?”
Zacharias turned to him, surprised he was asking. “Odd things. I don’t particularly understand them. Ravenclaws are an odd bunch.”
“Harry smiled.”
“She dislikes my love of culture. I take my music, my singers and my dancers most places. I get bored easily.” He frowned. “She dislikes them too.”
Harry couldn’t fathom why. One in particular drew his eye even when he was not in the room. He remembered Queen Cho’s reaction to their piece that morning. He didn’t understand her reaction either having thought it a masterpiece. He hadn’t appreciated her glares at the two dancers either.
“Are you sure it’s not just two of them, instead of the whole band?”
Zacharias laughed knowingly. “More like just one.” Harry frowned. “The man, the one who can’t speak? The one who visited you last night.” Harry nodded, suddenly very interested in finding out more. If Zacharias noticed, he didn’t say anything. “He was a servant or something. My men found him half dead in a field. They think he was attacked.”
“By who?” Harry found himself getting inexplicably angry. Up ahead he could see the entrance to the town, the people milling about in daily duties. Some of his men had ridden ahead to announce their arrival.
Zacharias shrugged as if he’d tried to figure it out himself. “I don’t know,” he said. “They believe it could have been robbers, some stray gold was left behind. I think they were run off by my men.” He looked passive, now watching at the various stalls in the marketplace they were passing. “When he arrived he wouldn’t speak no matter what we did, the bag of coins was the only thing he had and I let him keep them. They couldn’t be used in our domain anyway.”
Harry frowned. “Why not?” Gold was gold as far as he was concerned.
Zacharias turned to him as if he’d just realised he was carrying on a conversation. His eyes had been plastered on a young woman coming out of a tavern. He winked when she blew him a kiss. Harry rolled his eyes. “Hmm? Oh, they were foreign,” he said as if it explained it all. “My kingdom has its own currency. The gold and silver are melted into a mould so we know what is ours. There was no point in confiscating it, as it couldn’t be spent and they wouldn’t melt when we tried.”
Harry was thinking on it when he suddenly remembered the coins on the young man’s outfit the night before wishing he’d paid more attention. If the gold can’t melt, how was he able to pierce it?
The spark of hate ran through Ronald’s spine like a bolt of lightning. He saw a thick cloud of it before his eyes and when it cleared, he could see a dagger, sharp and glistening in the sun before it was stabbed into the chest of a man on a horse. It happened again, rewinding and playing again in his mind’s eye. Each time the dagger hit its mark.
Coming out of the vision was like emerging from lake of ice water. He hadn’t felt anything that intense since he was seven. He was screaming, “Look out!” before he could catch his breath.
It happened in a matter of seconds.
Just as the thought of the young male dancer entered Harry’s mind, he heard Ronald behind him shouting at them in warning. When he turned to look around, he could see both his and Zacharias’ guards reacting and tightening their security.
There’s a gap.
The fleeting observation ran through Harry’s mind just before he tried to vocalise it. Just as he opened his mouth, though, he saw a young man. Dark hair moved as he wove through the crowd. His eyes were angry and piercing and they glared at Zacharias, who was too busy looking around to notice one man slip through a gap in security. He rounded the horse and jumped, his hands rearing back to give him a maximum of velocity.
Before he could think any further, Harry leaned and pushed Zacharias off his horse. As his chest landed on the saddle of the brown horse Zacharias had commandeered, a sleek sharp and penetrating pain lanced its way from his shoulder to his spine.
The guards heard the commotion behind them, Zacharias’ cry of alarm catching their attention. When they finally took notice, Zacharias was on the ground and Harry was slouching with a blade in his shoulder. The young man who’d stabbed him turned pale, looking from his King to the guards closing in around him and bolted. Two guards followed him into the crowd that was all too happy to help.
Harry was slipped off his horse carefully. When he looked up, he could see the outline of Zacharias’ face and wondered what it was doing there.
“You absolute idiot.” It was all he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness.
***
The ascent into consciousness was slow and not a little painful. Harry groaned and tried to move his stiff shoulder but hissed at the severe pain he could feel there. “Ow! F...” He opened his eyes and saw his mother glaring at him sternly. “Ow,” he settled with.
Those green eyes so like his narrowed. “If you were not my son, and you were not in so much pain... I would slaughter you.” She slapped him upside the head and he cringed. She hadn’t done that in a while. He almost smiled. She wasn’t so angry after all.
“What happened?” he asked blearily and tried to sit up once more.
Lily pushed her son back down with his good shoulder and revived her stern glare. “You will lie down. You have been injured and if you want to survive your recovery intact you will do as I say.”
“Here, here,” they heard and turned toward the voice. Molly walked into the infirmary with Madam Pomphrey, both wearing identical scowls. Harry prayed to Merlin he would survive this conversation let alone his recovery. “Well, we were able to heal your shoulder with Dumbledore’s help. You will have to take it easy, though. No strenuous actions and definitely none of the life-threatening kind.” He nodded, sure that if he didn’t he would only be scolded more.
Lily sighed, running her fingers gently through his hair. “What were you thinking? Your guards have one duty, there is no point in having them if you take that away from them when the time comes.”
This time, Harry sat up and stayed up batting away hands gently that told him to lie back down. “There was a gap. I saw it and they didn’t.”
Lily crossed her arms. “And you couldn’t have called for them to do something?”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. They would not have been able to do anything in the time it took for the man to get to us.”
“King Zacharias.” Harry’s head snapped to the door as Ronald walked through. “He was after King Zacharias, he told our men as much.” Ronald glared. “And you either should have let his guards handle him or let him get stabbed.” He crossed his arms angrily. There was a folded parchment in his hands. The red wax that sealed it shut was embossed with the Hufflepuff coat of arms. Harry knew the image came from the King’s signet ring.
He gestured to it. “Is that for me?”
Ronald looked down and uncrossed his arms. “Zacharias gave it to me before he left.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “He left so soon?”
Ronald looked around to the women around him. They hadn’t told him. “You’ve been asleep for five days now, ran a wicked fever too. The King stayed as long as he could after an assassination attempt but any more than one day and our men would have driven them out anyway. He sent this for you four days ago.” He handed him the sealed letter.
Harry took it and then looked up to his keepers. “Am I able to leave?” he asked.
Madam Pomphrey, the infirmary nurse, gave him a considering look. “Stay away from men with daggers in the future.”
Harry smiled. “I promise, Madam.”
She gestured to the door, her usual order to get out while you still could, as she glanced at the two other women in the room. They were obviously not in agreement to her decision. Harry didn’t let her reconsider. He was up before anyone had a chance to argue. Once outside, he flipped the letter over to see just the name ‘Harry’ on it in perfect calligraphy. He shook his head. His own handwriting was much worse than that and no matter how hard he tried it would never change. The seal cracked easily when he slid his finger beneath it.
Ronald could feel the curiosity and fond exasperation rolling off Harry beside him. It soon turned into confusion, however. He wondered a bit at the spike of lust than disappeared as soon as it came when horror took its main place in Harry’s field of emotion. Harry stopped moving.
“Bad news?” he asked lightly, not sure what the problem was.
Harry ran.
Ronald watched him for all of two seconds before he took off after him. He followed his route, recognising the path to Harry’s quarters. His brow furrowed, though, when he called at the guards in front of his portrait to open it. It was open as he ran up to it and went inside. Harry was looking around in confusion not seeing anything around. Ronald wondered what he was searching for. Harry turned to the guards. “Were you here four days ago?” The guards looked at each other in confusion. “In front of my quarters,” he began frustrated, “were you in front of my quarters four days ago!”
One of them shook his head while the other nodded. Harry focused on him. “Did the Hufflepuff men bring anything here, a package maybe?”
He nodded again. “They placed it in your rooms. They said it was meant for your eyes... only.” He stopped when he realised he was speaking to air.
“Go to the infirmary and call Pomphrey,” they heard as the King raced through the common living area, passed his study and went up the stairs to his bedroom.
“I suggest you do what he says,” Ronald said going after him. The two guards left quickly, one staying at the door while the other ran down the halls.
Harry stopped stock still when he saw the large box in his room. It was long and standing tall. It was also nailed shut. He shook his head, not believing that Zacharias could be so stupid. He looked around for something - anything to pry it open. When Ronald came into the room, he was attacking the box with a candelabrum, having broken off the stand at the bottom that tapered a little to fit into it. He wedged it into the side where the lid was nailed down and was levering the thing open.
Ronald watched him, feeling the fear and worry shaking his bones and knew it felt the same for the anxious man before him. He frowned down at the parchment he picked up when Harry'd entered his quarters wondering what could get him so worked up and acting as if getting the box open was a case of life or death.
’Dearest Harry,’ he read and rolled his eyes.
I wish to thank you for your pushing me off that horse, though I believe a simple ‘lookout’ may have sufficed. I have bruises in places I did not know it possible. But I thank you anyway. I have left a wooden parcel for you in your rooms as a token of my appreciation. I know you will not like the idea of rewards but I honestly leave it as a gift from a friend to an ally. You have nothing to fear from me. Besides, it can help me appeal to my wife now that he is gone. When you have cleared me from your suspicions, I look forward to hearing from you.
Have fun.
Respectfully
Zacharias
He was not sure what the king meant by appealing to his wife but he did register the ‘now that he is gone’ especially when the lid finally came off and an unconscious blond man spilled out of the box. Ronald did not blame him. Four days without food or water could do that.
***
Harry sat up mid groan, sweating heavily, and blinked in the darkness of his room. He looked around, seeing nothing that could have woken him and put his head in his hands. His heart was racing. He panted quietly, slumped forward and pulled his legs toward him to sit cross-legged. As he moved them, he paused, shutting his eyes in mortified resignation. He lifted the covers and winced at the sticky residue on the underside of the quilt. Again. He’d done it again. It was like he was a teenager all over again. Getting up, he folded the sheets back completely and made his way into his bathroom. The basin of water had a cloth next to it and he stripped down before dipping the cloth in the water to wipe himself.
Harry put the feeling down to lingering effects from his fever, the one he did not even remember. If he didn’t, he honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him because he had never felt this way before, especially for a man. The blond dancer was in his son’s room, located up the other staircase in his quarters. James was staying with his grandmother for the time being. She didn’t mind as, upon hearing what had happened, she needed a distraction to stop herself from flying to Hufflepuff and committing an assassination attempt of her own, properly this time.
He’d sat by him for days while Madam Pomphrey and Dumbledore worked on him. Ronald had stopped in a few times and each time he frowned because he couldn’t get a proper reading. “It’s like something’s missing,” he would say and Harry would wonder what that meant. When no one was around, he would just stare. He couldn’t take his eyes off him and he didn’t know why. When he was away from the room, his thoughts would stray to the man in his quarters, wondering if he was awake.
Then there were his dreams.
Harry shut his eyes once more as the memory of the dream stirred his cock once more. He could still feel the soft skin of the man as he straddled Harry's thighs and continued his dance. The dreams had been erotic before, but this was downright indecent. His cheeks flushed bright red as the ghost of those hands once more held onto his shoulders as he ground down onto Harry’s cock, rolling his hips and tossing his head back.
Forcing himself to snap out of it, he looked into his mirror. There was debauchery depicted all over him and he groaned aloud. This could not go on.
***
When asked, any Empath’s explanation of their ability would include the terms ‘simple’ and ‘extremely difficult’. Harry often said Ronald was the most self-actualised person he knew, that he understood himself far more than any man. In his eyes held a wisdom that could not be held by hundred year old men. He was often amused but never angered; a quality that often infuriated the King. He suffered under no illusions of grandeur, despite how high he ranked as an advisor. Like most Empaths, Ronald Weasley would always state that his ability was better felt than it was explained, that identifying one’s emotions and understanding them was hard enough let alone having to decipher someone else’s. Just like hundred year old men, Ronald would say it came with experience.
His empathetic ability would be explained as a contradiction in terms. He would say it was enjoyable, yet frustrating. It gave him an advantage, yet took away the challenge. It made him an asset, but also an enemy. It was a gift... and a curse.
The Empathic life was not easy. The world he lived in was fraught with emotion ranging from passing thoughts to premeditated conspiracies. The problem lay in figuring out the important features. Some were hidden, others jumped at him, sometimes even in the form of pictures. The clearer the picture the more serious the intent. It lent him a branch of clairvoyance. That had proven effective on more than one occasion. It was how he’d known King Zacharias was in danger. The hatred of the assassin was so strong he’d seen the man raise the dagger more than once.
The snippet of action was a surprising factor of his ability that he’d learned about around the age of eighteen when the former Sovereign had died. He’d seen King James everywhere, his death an overwhelming tragedy to all and especially his wife and son. Harry had sat thinking of the man for hours. Ronald had seen them talking tearfully on the short pier over the lake. He’d seen Queen Lily in tears resting on the lounger with her head tucked under his chin. It was a sorrowful time.
However that was not the only emotion that evoked corporeal beings. Others, such as hate and lust brought them forward if felt strong enough. Since Dumbledore learned of his newest ability, he’d trained the redhead for months. Of course, it had its advantages but other times it was distracting. He’d seen countless fraternising bodies around the castle and grounds. He’d even seen himself on occasion when Blaise was around. When figuring out these ‘visions’ Dumbledore had taught him to keep to three simple rules:
Know the surroundings.
Know the source.
Know the emotion.
The first was the most important. It held the difference between saving a man’s life and ruining it. The second gave either a victim or a suspect and the third gave the motive.
Averting his eyes, Ronald could not think of any better example than the King getting a private session with their resident recovering dancer on his throne in the middle of appeals as he listened to the townsfolk. Ronald had to do a double take upon seeing the grinding motions before him. It was the third time for the day he’d seen the dancer in a compromising position with the king, all of them fuelled by lust radiating off the sovereign in waves.
He coughed, clearing his throat threateningly and saw the King jump in his throne. He narrowed his eyes at him and gestured to the farmer who was asking for help. He saw the brunet blush red and then sit forward. Ronald would have liked to think he learned his lesson but due to the blond dancer walking around the throne and sitting on the arm and sifting his fingers through the King’s hair, he didn’t think so.
Ronald rolled his eyes.
***
He was the Prince there was no other explanation, not when those bright green eyes, so like the King’s, stared at him in curiosity. The small boy leaned forward to touch his face and he allowed it. Children were not dangerous, curious as hell and annoying, maybe, but not dangerous. The child frowned but then broke out into a grin. “You’re so pale you look cold but you’re warm.” He climbed onto the bed and smiled at him. He was silent.
The child was strange but his grin was infectious. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Grandmother says you can’t talk. Is that true?” he asked. The boy got a nod in reply and broke out into a wider grin. “Wonderful! My name is James, this is my room.” He looked as though he was considering how to ask the dancer his name. “I’ll call you Dancer because Father says you’re a good dancer.” He hopped off the bed. “Will you play with me? I have lessons this afternoon but I have the morning for myself and my guards are outside. Ronald says he’ll come for me when my first lesson starts.”
The blond man was not sure who James was talking about but he could really do with stretching his legs. The nurse had told him to take bed rest for a couple of days but he was being driven mad by the women that kept coming into the room. He nodded to the young prince’s request and slowly sat up gauging whether or not he would be able to stand.
The corridors of Gryffindor castle were spacious and airy. It helped that there were high windows that let in light and a slight breeze that carried the essence of spring turning into summer. James ran ahead a little and waved him on down some steps that carried a scent of food. The smell of freshly baked goods filled the air as James opened the door. House elves bustled about, all being coordinated by a red-headed woman who was kneading a considerable amount of dough on a large table. A group of elves were cutting up fruit nearby.
“Hello Prince James, dear!” she called when she spotted him and the small boy ran over to her. The house elves bowed to him and moved out of his way as he passed. “Who’s your friend, lovie?”
James grinned and waved him over. “This is Dancer! He doesn’t talk but he’s going to play with me today until my lessons with Ronald this afternoon.” James looked over at his Dancer. “Dancer, this is Molly, she’s the castle cook.”
“Well, then you must be that poor man Poppy was talking about. Should you be out of bed young man?” she asked sternly and put a flour-laden hand on her hip. Shaking her head at boys in general, she looked down at James. “Don’t you go tiring him out, young Prince, or I shall tell your father just what you are doing to his guest.” James didn’t look too happy about that. She looked up at Dancer this time. “And you, Mr. Dancer, don’t you go collapsing on us or you shall have Poppy on your back for longer than you care for.” He nodded.
Looking around, Molly spotted the elves chopping up fruit and took up a sharp green apple. “Here,” she said and lobbed it over to him. He caught it deftly. “Eat something before you start to play with him, he’s very energetic, even for a four year old.” Before he was able to gesture a reply, James took hold of his hand and led him over to a door on the side of the kitchen that led outside onto the castle grounds.
A sweeping view of green grass that eventually drew the eye to a border of tall dark trees faced him and he took a deep breath of air. He looked down to see James tugging on the hem of the blue tunic the boy had brought for him, probably from his father’s wardrobe.
When James caught his attention, he grinned and then sprinted away, waving for Dancer to catch him. He was about to slow down when Dancer smiled widely and then chased after him.
~~
Harry walked into his quarters and looked toward the staircase that led to his son’s rooms. He hoped the dancer was doing better. He’d heard from guards and servants in the castle that the man had been seen playing with his son around the castle grounds. He’d smiled when he heard it but he hadn’t seen him in days now. He knew Poppy was taking good care of him and had even relocated the man to James’ room as it was the closest place they could give him to recover.
Harry wondered if he should visit him. He’d spent a lot of time by his side the first day but once he was sure the man was in capable hands, he’d let the experts handle it. He couldn’t believe Zacharias had nailed him into that box. What would have happened if Harry hadn’t woken up for a few more days?
Harry shook his head as he walked up the stairs to his own rooms and scoffed as he opened his door. Zacharias was insane, it was the only explanation.
He unlaced the neck of his tunic and pulled it over his head, pausing as he grabbed the hen of his undershirt.
Something was wrong.
Slowly, he turned his eyes going wide as he spotted someone sitting on his dressing table. He swallowed hard and dropped the edge of his shirt, letting his hands fall to his sides.
The grey-eyed man followed the procession his hands took until they rested and snapped his eyes up to Harry’s face. Harry’s heart skipped and he felt inexplicably nervous. What was he doing in here?
The dancer jumped off his dresser, the gold bangles Harry had not noticed before clanging as he landed softly on the hardwood floor. He was wearing that same outfit, the one he’d worn when he first danced for him. Harry swallowed the saliva that suddenly flooded his mouth. Slowly, the blond walked over to the king, his posture showing none of the fatigue that had plagued him days before. Once again, splayed fingers rested against Harry’s chest and Harry felt the beat of his heart rattle against his ribcage. How was he able to do that?
“You – you do know, you no longer have to dance for me?” His hands were trembling. A nod answered him and the hand slowly moved down past his chest onto his stomach. The blond’s eyes stayed on his, watching and waiting for his reaction. “Was there... something you needed to sa – er, show me?”
That seemed to be an acceptable reply because a small smile that made Harry blush answered his stuttered question. The dancer moved away, his hand trailing around Harry’s body as he walked behind him before his presence disappeared. Harry turned to see the man on his bed sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. He smiled patiently and appeared to be waiting on Harry. The crooked finger beckoning him forward was a clue.
Harry tightened his hands into fists. He had to control himself damn it. “Why?” There was desperation in his tone but he didn’t care.
Grey eyes narrowed playfully, knowingly, and his legs widened sinfully on the bed, his hands coming forward to lever himself up onto all fours. He smiled sexily, crawling slowly toward the Gryffindor King, and stopped at the end of the bed before kneeling. He reached forward to grab Harry’s shirt and pulled him forward.
Harry hissed when his hard cock came into contact with the blond’s. Slowly, achingly, the man rotated his pelvis against Harry's and deepened his smile when Harry groaned. Grey eyes roamed the contours of the brunet’s face before they focused on his mouth and then suddenly Harry couldn’t breathe as the mouth he’d been staring at was pressed against his. White teeth drew in his bottom lip and gave way to a tongue that forced his mouth open.
Merlin, he was moaning wantonly as a tongue danced against his own and a hand slid up under his shirt and firmly down Harry's naked belly. Harry felt open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down to the juncture of his neck. It felt so good, the heat of the man’s mouth kissing its way down Harry’s chest in a straight line. His stomach muscles shuddered as the kisses paused at his navel, where a wet tongue licked its way inside and around as hands tugged at the laces of his breeches.
Harry suddenly found himself staring up at the high ceiling of his room and looked down to see a blond head stationed at his hips. He ran his tongue along his lips knowing they were flushed and swollen from the kisses that had abused his mouth before. He couldn’t really see but he could definitely feel a steady hot lick on the underside of his weeping cock from base to tip. Then he saw grey eyes focus on his as the man tongued the shaft before engulfing Harry’s cock in his warm mouth-
A loud, thunderous clap sounded close to his ear and Harry blinked coming awake shockingly fast as if he’d been pushed into the lake at winter. He inhaled sharply, looking around. The warm familiar walls of his rooms had changed dramatically into the spacious cooler atmosphere of the Great Hall. He frowned as he looked around and then stared ahead.
Ronald was standing there with his arms crossed and glaring at him. He pointedly looked down. Harry followed his line of sight and flushed a dark red. Shit. I fell asleep again.
“You are very lucky you are not hearing appeals this time. That would have been embarrassing.”
Harry shut his eyes. Yes it would have been. “I have to do something about this.” Ronald snorted. Harry turned and glared at him. “You think I want this?” he asked incredulously.
“You want something, Your Highness.” He let his arms drop to his sides. “I suggest you figure out what it is before I go blind.” He waited for Harry to nod in agreement. “I came to tell you that Sirius sends word that he will be here in two days,” he continued. “He says he has news for you that he must tell you in person.”
Harry nodded, happy about the news. He hadn’t seen Sirius in a long time. He remembered that he’d wanted to ask if he had relations in Ravenclaw. His features were so similar to the dancers he’d seen. “Alright.” Ron watched him some more before his gaze was captured by something behind his throne. Harry frowned as Ron snorted and shook his head turning to leave. He turned to peer around the high backed chair but saw nothing there. By the time he returned to ask what he’d seen, he found Ronald was already to the Great Hall’s doors.
Looking down, he decided he needed to find somewhere more private than the Hall to take care of his problem.
***
Harry stared out the window of the library. He could see his mother in the rose garden as his son walked alongside her. He smiled remembering that when he was younger he used to see his father doing the same thing. He looked down to the book in his hand. He’d tried reading until early hours of the morning to see if he could tire himself out enough to have some dreamless sleep. Severus had returned to Slytherin months ago which meant the stocks of potions in the castle were being rationed until he returned, only to be used in emergencies. Harry having constant, maddening, erotic dreams about a dancer did not qualify as an emergency.
The book hadn’t worked.
Harry sighed and walked away from the window, his mother and son long since disappeared from the view and around a corner of the castle walls that led down a grassy knoll toward the lake. A soft thud sounded in the aisles and Harry paused. It sounded as I a book had fallen. He turned to the front table and saw Madam Pince cataloguing, her apprentice, a young woman named Hermione, sat with her. Who is it then? he thought to himself and made his way into the stacks.
He did not discourage his servants from reading or writing, though he still found it surprising when he would see them in the library reading. He’d come across a few teaching their children too, which always got a smile out of him. He did not, however, expect to find them sat on the floor surrounded by books while reading one in their lap, which is exactly how he found the dancer he’d pried out of a box the week before. He stood at the end of the aisle staring. He’d never thought to think a man good looking before, the idea had just never occurred to him. Surveying the man before him completely unaware of his presence, however, the terms handsome and beautiful were glaringly obvious. Coming across him in reality for the first time in days reminded him not to feel bad about having those dreams and fantasies. Right now, he didn’t blame himself for feeling the way he did.
A sudden gasp snapped him out of his reverie and he straightened to the sight of the blond standing up and bowing to him. He then proceeded to put away all of his books.
Harry came forward quickly to stop him. “There is nothing wrong with reading. I was just surprised to see you here.” He let go of his wrists and picked up one of the books from the ground. “Are you feeling better?” he asked turning it over. A nod was his reply and Harry wanted to smack himself in the face. Why did he keep forgetting the man couldn’t talk?
Harry’s eyebrows rose. He knew the book in his hands. What surprised him the most, however, was that the book was in Latin. “You can read this?” he asked impressed.
The blond looked down to see what he was talking about. He looked up at Harry sharply and shook his head.
Harry watched him warily. He was lying. “Quid turpius est, quam menti’ri?1” he said and smiled when the blond was shocked and blushed pink. He reached behind him to place the book back on the shelf. “I don’t know how they do it I Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but we do not punish people for wanting to learn.”
There was silence and Harry let him stare, a mixture of shock, disbelief and wariness in the blond’s expression. Harry wondered at the blush that was still present on his cheeks and knew - knew - that he would be thinking of it that night. He felt a sharp stab of arousal in his gut and heard the blond’s intake of breath that sparked its way up his spine. He suddenly became aware that he’d moved closer, much closer. What the hell! He’d been about the kiss him. He was getting hot and had to control himself before he did something stupid, like believe that this was another dream. He couldn’t do what he felt like here, not in reality, but the arousal remained nonetheless.
Harry took a few steps back and finally turned to leave, not knowing what the hell was coming over him nor seeing the look of disappointment on the blond’s face.
Later, Harry watched the guards in training, sparring with each other in the courtyard. He sat on the steps alone, Ronald had left him some time ago claiming he couldn’t take the visions anymore and might as well go for James to start his lessons with Dumbledore. Harry blushed. His daydreams were getting more and more specific and apparently Ronald was able see all of them in mortifying detail. He sighed not knowing what to do. He raised his head at the opening gates on the other side of the courtyard and stood when he saw Sirius riding in and smiled. Sirius was his father’s best friend and much like a father to him now when he needed council or a few kind words. He acted as a liaison between Slytherin and Gryffindor territories now and was part of the active search for Prince Draco, who’d been missing for five years.
“Sirius,” Harry said jovially as he gave him a welcoming hug. “How are you?”
Sirius took a step back to look at Harry closely. He’d heard about the botched assassination attempt in a missive from Lily and came, in part, to scold him. Now, however, he didn’t have the heart. It had been a while since he’d seen him and he didn’t want to take up the time he spent here with arguments.
“I am well, but I’m afraid I carry bad news. Shall we go inside?”
Harry frowned in concern. “Of course. I was thinking of stealing something to bite on before lunch.” They walked up the castle steps and turned right to walk toward the kitchens. “What’s the matter, has something happened?”
“A small group of men tried to attack Malfoy Castle three nights ago. Security has tightened since and the royal family are outraged at their treatment, no matter how necessary it may be.” He had a wry grin on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. “How so?”
Sirius sighed. “They are practically prisoners in their own home. Queen Narcissa seems to have caught an illness and right now we do not know if it was induced or happened naturally. King Lucius does not know what to do with himself. Blaise was supposed to be leaving to come here with me but says he will be here later in the day.”
Blaise had been sent back to the Slytherin lands to help look after the royal family there a few weeks after he’d arrived. He visited on occasion but Harry was sure he would be of more use there than he would be in Gryffindor. Besides, Ronald had gotten tired of the constant passes the dark-skinned man made at him and begged Harry to do something before he did it himself. “Oh dear,” Harry said. They were nearing the kitchens now, he could tell from the scent of apple pie. “What can I do?”
“There is nothing you can do,” Sirius replied shrugging. “I shall send your best wishes for you. Severus is trying hard to solve the puzzle and asked for Poppy to come back with me to see if she can be of any help.” He turned to ask for permission. Sirius shook his head sadly. “Lucius is truly beside himself. I do not think he will do very well if he lost his wife as well as his son.”
Harry nodded, a flash of blond hair catching his attention immediately as the sound of a gasp echoed in the corridor. “Very well.” He looked down the corridor to see the blond dancer of his dreams standing in what looked to be his clothes. He wondered where he got them from.
The blond man stared at the two of them, his head shaking before he turned and bolted in the opposite direction.
Harry frowned, he seemed upset. “Who was that?” Sirius asked.
“A present from Zacharias. Was that all?” he asked Sirius. When the older man nodded he said, “Then please excuse me,” and ran after him.
Harry wished he’d positioned guards by the kitchens; he’d have been able to stop the blond immediately. He ran down the steps, following him into the kitchens but when he arrived, there was no sign of him. As he slammed his way through the door, all the elves dropped to the floor in a deep bow and Molly look up. She grinned. “King Harry, what brings you here?”
“The dancer, he’s blond. Did he come through here?” he panted.
“Oh yes, earlier with Prince James and just now. He went through that door, looked to be in a hurry too. Did that little boy rope you into playing with him too? I tell you he needs a-”
Harry didn’t hear what else she was saying as he’d already run outside. The plush green grounds faced him and he turned every which way until he saw the spot of blue darting across the field toward the forest. He immediately ran after him immensely grateful his shoulder had healed enough that it didn’t hurt with all this running. He was counting on the blond apparently being off bed rest to slow him down and was pleasantly proved right when he’d made it halfway across the field and noticed he was closing in a little.
By the time they’d hit the trees, He was only fifty or so yards behind him. They were running through the trees for so long that eventually, Harry saw the edge of the heath. Where the hell was the man going? “Hey!” he yelled again to no avail. The dancer was slowing down but he wasn’t stopping and Harry wished he would because he was dreadfully out of breath. The heath’s grass grew high this time of year, and with all the commotion going on, it went untended. The tall blades neared his neck now as it was coming up closer to summer than before when the carriages had arrived.
The tall grass of the heath slowed the dancer down more and Harry, who’d grown up with this heath, was able to close further in on him. “Hey!” he yelled once more before he tackled him to the ground. The grass bent and fell with them as they rolled over the stalks and eventually stopped. He braced himself as kicks and punches were aimed at him, pushing him off before the man stumbled back onto his feet and took off again. Harry got up again, the adrenaline causing him to endure the assault with little harm and follow him. Then he heard hooves. There were many of them and he knew that the other man heard them too because he slowed dramatically when they echoed louder. They were getting closer and Harry used the momentary distraction to bring the man down again.
Those were not his men. He could plainly see the outline of yellow on their uniforms but he did not recognise any of them as the guards who had come with Zacharias before. He did not know what Hufflepuff men were doing on his land, especially since he’d made it clear they were not to come back until he’d received word from Blaise about the would-be assassin. There were a lot of those going around, it seemed. He did not have on his crown and he could not confront them all at once, especially with a struggling runaway giving him this amount of trouble. The man below him was clearly upset, though he could not understand why. Then he looked up from his position on the ground at the riders some yards away. Did he know they would be here? Was he going to meet them here? The struggled fighting against Harry got stronger the longer he held him down. Then Harry saw those grey eyes were wet and, in his shock, loosened his grip, giving the man enough leverage to manage to shove him off. He turned and crawled on his hands and knees until he could stand again.
Voices. The men were closer. Harry tackled the dancer one more time, hearing his grunt as they both landed and the forced exhale that had been haunting his dreams. His lapse allowed him to lose advantage and soon the man had wrestled his way on top of him straddling him.
“Bloody grass, don’t know why they let it grow so high.”
The voices were so close they both froze. Harry put up his finger to his mouth telling the troublesome blond to be quiet, his hands still entrapping his wrists. If these men were there uninvited, they were obviously up to no good. He knew that if they got caught he had no way to prove he was the King and even if he did, there was no way the riders would pass up the opportunity to kidnap him or kill him. Harry felt his men had enough to deal with at the moment.
Grey eyes were staring at him intently and Harry suddenly found himself thrown back into all the dreams he’d been having where that look led to other very intense positions and situations. He hoped they weren’t written all over his face. He also hoped he could control himself enough not to harden with this man in such close proximity. Harry tried to ignore their position, it was all he could do now that he’d noticed it. After every dream he’d had lately, this was the last thing he needed. All he wanted to do was go home and to do that, the man straddling him had to remain quiet.
But despite the pink blush that worked its way up the man’s neck and face, he narrowed his eyes in defiance. Harry gave him a warning glare. It was bad enough that he’d made him run so far. He sat up and took both wrists in one hand, pulling him closer and trapping him there with a hand on his waist. The heat of his skin seared into Harry’s hands where his undershirt had ridden up in their struggle. He’d seen him half naked before, felt the skin in his dreams but never so real, never so close, not since the first day in the courtyard. Harry felt his breath catch and swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
The other man was panting. Harry could hear it loud and clear and the sound did nothing for his will, which was crumbling. Fast. The way he sat on Harry’s lap gave Harry a clear view of his throat and he saw the Adam’s apple bob as the blond swallowed, a mirror action to his own. Harry’s gaze flickered upward to see now dry, grey eyes staring back at him, framed by skin that was flushed pink.
Another voice called out before he had a chance to say anything. “Just check out whatever you think you heard. We should set up camp north of here, that area is hardly travelled.”
“Forget it then. I’m not getting down and searching through all these weeds. I doubt it was anything but rabbits anyway.”
The sound of horses snorting felt a lot closer than it actually was and Harry found it harder to hold onto to the man on top of him who’d renewed his will to escape. Every time he tried to get a tighter grip, the blond would pull away. “Where are you trying to go? Do you want to die?” he whispered harshly.
A look of defiance Harry did not know was possible passed over the man’s face. The horses began trotting away and Harry divided his attention between the men leaving and the man before him who was getting up and wrenching his wrists out of his grip. Whenever Harry tried to reach for him, he pulled further back. “You will come with me, if not you might die out here.” Both of them stared out across to the backs of the riders and then at each other. Then Harry focused fully on him when he opened his mouth.
“If I scream, we are both dead.” A dark blond eyebrow cocked as the dancer gestured to him. “My guess, you first.”
Next part
Author:
olimakiellaPrompt: #057 by
s0ulrunnerPairing(s):H/D, Slight Ronald/Blaise
Summary: The land of Slytherin has always been highly sought for its riches. When old fashioned murder does not work, its neighbouring lands will stop at nothing to get their hands on it.
Rating: Very light R
Previous part
If he thought he would feel better come breakfast, he was mistaken. Once Zacharias came in and asked him what he thought, all he could do was stammer and blush. Even though he was not sitting next to her, he could still feel Queen Cho’s disapproving stare.
“Well, you get another chance to see him today.”
“What?” Harry said perhaps a little too loud. Harry watched the doors open and saw a procession of musical instruments being brought inside, the musicians already playing a tune. Next to him, he heard Zacharias chuckle.
Harry frowned and glanced between Zacharias and the group filling the hall in front of him. “Because they could not perform last night, I told them they would do it this morning.” He seemed excited when he saw his two main dancers. “This was my mother’s favourite story.”
Harry felt himself get distracted by the man that had visited him last night. He tried and failed to fight the blush that he knew was creeping up his cheeks. The blond was joined by the young woman he’d met outside in the courtyard yesterday. Both of them looked so alike it was hard to tell the difference. Their fair hair was styled the same way and their faces were made up with dark kohl around their eyes. “It’s about how the lines of royalty and normalcy often blur and the only difference is the responsibility they hold with their power.” Zacharias shrugged. “It’s a little womanish but it’s pleasing to the eye.”
Harry could definitely understand that. The only difference between the two dancers was their clothing. Luna, if he remembered correctly, was dressed like many women he had seen at court. The material was a rich blue tone that made her eyes shine. The dress was skin-tight from her chest to her hips before flowing down to her ankles. Slits were cut all the way up to her hips on both sides. The man that he remembered covered in gold the night prior, with those slate grey eyes, was dressed in the same blue but the material was simple wool. His tunic fell to mid thigh and skin-tight woollen breeches stretched to his feet.
“I asked your mother what her favourite story was and she said it was the same thing so I suppose my point is proven. She says it’s because of morals and something about your father instilling the same thing in you but I still think it’s too feminine.”
Harry glanced at his mother, who was sitting next to him and saw her proud smile, obviously hearing what Zacharias had said. He smiled back.
The dancers parted from the line of musicians taking their places in the centre of the hall. Their legs stretched out either side and bent at the knee, their hands together as if in prayer. Harry saw there were many bangles on each of their limbs. They jangled as they moved forward but where they were coloured gold and sparkling on Luna they were metallic and dull on the man. Like shackles of gold and steel. He appreciated the irony knowing that being royalty was both a gift and a curse.
He had a feeling he would like this story. It was too bad Queen Cho did not seem so happy about it, her eyes narrowing at the pair in front of her. Their arms were reaching high, fingers spread, heads tilting back as they began to move.
“It tells the tale of how the rich and the poor are alike in so many ways in whatever they do.” He listened to his mother narrate, her voice a presence in the back of his mind. Through it, he saw her words enacted before him in fluid grace. The steps were coherent, making sense and adding to the story. The pair took mirrored halted steps away from each other, the difficulty showing pain and struggle. It was as if every step forward was blocked by some impediment. They moved backward easier and then entered the others’ space to see if moving there would be any easier.
Their position put the blond man staring at him. “They now get to see if life on the other side is any better.” Turning from Harry, the blond man began to swing his hips, his hands moving over his body and through his hair. The seductive grace, the twisting and turning, completely in sync to Luna, it made Harry swallow and turn to Zacharias. “How are they able to move in such synchronicity?”
Zacharias shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly as the blond man turned toward them. Grey eyes focused on him solely and Harry felt his mouth go dry. Those eyes were piercing and they seemed to see straight through him reminding him so much of the night before. “They use no magic but what they do... it is magical is it not?” Harry nodded, unable to look away from the pair of eyes that stared at him. They followed him as the pair jumped apart and a loud bang of the drum had the music ceasing.
The two stopped as they landed, their bodies halting so suddenly that everything else jerked forward, even the audience, surprised as they were. Their hair flew forward encasing their faces and they held still while the music was absent for a while, showing just how strong their bodies really were. Harry met the sheltered gaze of the man and narrowed his own in wonderment. There was anger in there. He did not understand it but he was very curious to find out what was behind it.
Suddenly, the slow haunting tune of the violin had the blond’s arms and hands stretching forward, reaching for something in Harry’s direction. His leg stretched out behind him for balance. Harry sat back. He almost felt as if the man was reaching for him. Before long, however, the man caught it, dragging it in toward his chest. The dull grey bangles around his wrists jangled against each other as they were jostled with the movement. Vacantly, Harry noticed Luna was doing the same thing. Both of them turned their heads to the ceiling as the music slowed down, their hair in their faces, and rose whatever it was in their hands to the sky. There was exaltation and yearning in their movements. Harry could plainly see the representation of both classes, simultaneously happy and needy with their lot in life.
As the music slowed and then ceased there was a round of applause as the dancers and musicians bowed and curtsied. Harry’s mother stood up, as did Zacharias, so Harry did the same. Soon the hall followed suit.
“Where did you find them?”
Zacharias shrugged. “Some were born and bred in Ravenclaw. Others were prisoners held captive for petty crimes. They struck a deal and follow orders as a means to stay out of jail.”
“The man,” Harry gestured as they sat down. House elves walked around them, laying out plate of breakfast foods. “Is it true he cannot speak?” he asked as the musicians were packing up to leave the hall.
Zacharias grinned. “Not a word for the years I have had him. And not for the lack of trying, I assure you.” He turned to Harry taking note of his stare. “You have an interest in him. I told you that you would.” Harry’s eyes snapped to him to see that smug smile. His eyes narrowed, angry at himself for falling into Zacharias’ trap. “He went to your room last night, did you like him?” An eyebrow cocked at him, Harry could not fight the blush that stained his cheeks. A slow steady smile was his answer. “I shall take that as a yes.” His fingers snapped and a Hufflepuff guard came to him before Harry had a chance to speak and left to follow the dancers. Harry was mortified but watched as the guard caught the man at the doors. “He shall go again tonight.”
The conversation was one sided, but Harry watched carefully as the message was relayed. Those expressive grey eyes narrowed, and there was almost, almost refusal… but then a brisk nod followed in acceptance. Harry’s heart nearly stopped.
What had he gotten himself into?
It was with trembling hands that Harry mounted his usual horse Griffin for his ride out of the castle to escort Zacharias and his company out of his domain. The dream that had followed the dancer’s departure the night before had shaken him in more than one way. He’d not had such an erotic dream since he was in his teens and thinking of nothing but girls. His father’s death had put a pause on his libido and inheriting a country pretty much killed it entirely. He’d woken up harder than he had in years and had come even harder. He couldn’t wait for Zacharias and his party to leave, let him get a hold of himself. There was a war going on, even if it was not actively taking place. He had to get his priorities in order.
Finishing with the final buckle, he looked to the side and then again as he saw Zacharias walking up to him with one of the horses from the stables. He frowned. “What are you doing down here?”
“I will ride with you.” He smiled.
Harry looked around to his guards. “And who authorised this?” None of them came forward.
Zacharias rolled his eyes and mounted the brown steed. “I am a King no one authorises anything for me, Harry, you know that.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Why?” He spoke it as a statement.
Zacharias steadied himself. “Because I want to ride with you. You will get your horse back.” Another heavy sigh. It seemed he did it far too often where Zacharias was concerned. There was nothing he could do. Besides, it would not do him any harm.
He signalled his guards and they rode to the courtyard. The carriages were assembled, ready and waiting for departure. He could see the group of entertainers in the back securing their instruments and finally shutting the doors. He knew the silent man would be in there and forced his eyes away from the procession of carriages. Unfortunately, that had him looking at Zacharias. The smug bastard was grinning at him.
“Looking for somebody?” Harry narrowed his eyes at him and Zacharias’ grin dimmed to a small smile. “My wife is angry at me. She was hoping for peace. Probably more than I was.” The carriages began moving, and the guards both followed and led them out of the courtyard gates and into the open air. The road they took ran through the town and then out into the west side of the forest. From the moors, they would part ways. “She laid into me something fierce for not fighting harder for the treaty to be signed.”
Harry scoffed lightly, glad the conversation had turned. “Women can be like that.”
A slight nod. “Yeah.” Zacharias looked around. “I find it difficult to speak with her these days. She is always angry at me.”
Harry stared at him quizzically. “Why are you telling me this?”
Zacharias shrugged, still not looking at him. Harry guessed it was embarrassment. He and Ginevra had had their fair share of arguments, he’d not liked confiding in others either. That was probably the reason he always went to his mother. He watched the other King sadly. He didn’t have either parent. “What else does she say?”
Zacharias turned to him, surprised he was asking. “Odd things. I don’t particularly understand them. Ravenclaws are an odd bunch.”
“Harry smiled.”
“She dislikes my love of culture. I take my music, my singers and my dancers most places. I get bored easily.” He frowned. “She dislikes them too.”
Harry couldn’t fathom why. One in particular drew his eye even when he was not in the room. He remembered Queen Cho’s reaction to their piece that morning. He didn’t understand her reaction either having thought it a masterpiece. He hadn’t appreciated her glares at the two dancers either.
“Are you sure it’s not just two of them, instead of the whole band?”
Zacharias laughed knowingly. “More like just one.” Harry frowned. “The man, the one who can’t speak? The one who visited you last night.” Harry nodded, suddenly very interested in finding out more. If Zacharias noticed, he didn’t say anything. “He was a servant or something. My men found him half dead in a field. They think he was attacked.”
“By who?” Harry found himself getting inexplicably angry. Up ahead he could see the entrance to the town, the people milling about in daily duties. Some of his men had ridden ahead to announce their arrival.
Zacharias shrugged as if he’d tried to figure it out himself. “I don’t know,” he said. “They believe it could have been robbers, some stray gold was left behind. I think they were run off by my men.” He looked passive, now watching at the various stalls in the marketplace they were passing. “When he arrived he wouldn’t speak no matter what we did, the bag of coins was the only thing he had and I let him keep them. They couldn’t be used in our domain anyway.”
Harry frowned. “Why not?” Gold was gold as far as he was concerned.
Zacharias turned to him as if he’d just realised he was carrying on a conversation. His eyes had been plastered on a young woman coming out of a tavern. He winked when she blew him a kiss. Harry rolled his eyes. “Hmm? Oh, they were foreign,” he said as if it explained it all. “My kingdom has its own currency. The gold and silver are melted into a mould so we know what is ours. There was no point in confiscating it, as it couldn’t be spent and they wouldn’t melt when we tried.”
Harry was thinking on it when he suddenly remembered the coins on the young man’s outfit the night before wishing he’d paid more attention. If the gold can’t melt, how was he able to pierce it?
The spark of hate ran through Ronald’s spine like a bolt of lightning. He saw a thick cloud of it before his eyes and when it cleared, he could see a dagger, sharp and glistening in the sun before it was stabbed into the chest of a man on a horse. It happened again, rewinding and playing again in his mind’s eye. Each time the dagger hit its mark.
Coming out of the vision was like emerging from lake of ice water. He hadn’t felt anything that intense since he was seven. He was screaming, “Look out!” before he could catch his breath.
It happened in a matter of seconds.
Just as the thought of the young male dancer entered Harry’s mind, he heard Ronald behind him shouting at them in warning. When he turned to look around, he could see both his and Zacharias’ guards reacting and tightening their security.
There’s a gap.
The fleeting observation ran through Harry’s mind just before he tried to vocalise it. Just as he opened his mouth, though, he saw a young man. Dark hair moved as he wove through the crowd. His eyes were angry and piercing and they glared at Zacharias, who was too busy looking around to notice one man slip through a gap in security. He rounded the horse and jumped, his hands rearing back to give him a maximum of velocity.
Before he could think any further, Harry leaned and pushed Zacharias off his horse. As his chest landed on the saddle of the brown horse Zacharias had commandeered, a sleek sharp and penetrating pain lanced its way from his shoulder to his spine.
The guards heard the commotion behind them, Zacharias’ cry of alarm catching their attention. When they finally took notice, Zacharias was on the ground and Harry was slouching with a blade in his shoulder. The young man who’d stabbed him turned pale, looking from his King to the guards closing in around him and bolted. Two guards followed him into the crowd that was all too happy to help.
Harry was slipped off his horse carefully. When he looked up, he could see the outline of Zacharias’ face and wondered what it was doing there.
“You absolute idiot.” It was all he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness.
The ascent into consciousness was slow and not a little painful. Harry groaned and tried to move his stiff shoulder but hissed at the severe pain he could feel there. “Ow! F...” He opened his eyes and saw his mother glaring at him sternly. “Ow,” he settled with.
Those green eyes so like his narrowed. “If you were not my son, and you were not in so much pain... I would slaughter you.” She slapped him upside the head and he cringed. She hadn’t done that in a while. He almost smiled. She wasn’t so angry after all.
“What happened?” he asked blearily and tried to sit up once more.
Lily pushed her son back down with his good shoulder and revived her stern glare. “You will lie down. You have been injured and if you want to survive your recovery intact you will do as I say.”
“Here, here,” they heard and turned toward the voice. Molly walked into the infirmary with Madam Pomphrey, both wearing identical scowls. Harry prayed to Merlin he would survive this conversation let alone his recovery. “Well, we were able to heal your shoulder with Dumbledore’s help. You will have to take it easy, though. No strenuous actions and definitely none of the life-threatening kind.” He nodded, sure that if he didn’t he would only be scolded more.
Lily sighed, running her fingers gently through his hair. “What were you thinking? Your guards have one duty, there is no point in having them if you take that away from them when the time comes.”
This time, Harry sat up and stayed up batting away hands gently that told him to lie back down. “There was a gap. I saw it and they didn’t.”
Lily crossed her arms. “And you couldn’t have called for them to do something?”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. They would not have been able to do anything in the time it took for the man to get to us.”
“King Zacharias.” Harry’s head snapped to the door as Ronald walked through. “He was after King Zacharias, he told our men as much.” Ronald glared. “And you either should have let his guards handle him or let him get stabbed.” He crossed his arms angrily. There was a folded parchment in his hands. The red wax that sealed it shut was embossed with the Hufflepuff coat of arms. Harry knew the image came from the King’s signet ring.
He gestured to it. “Is that for me?”
Ronald looked down and uncrossed his arms. “Zacharias gave it to me before he left.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “He left so soon?”
Ronald looked around to the women around him. They hadn’t told him. “You’ve been asleep for five days now, ran a wicked fever too. The King stayed as long as he could after an assassination attempt but any more than one day and our men would have driven them out anyway. He sent this for you four days ago.” He handed him the sealed letter.
Harry took it and then looked up to his keepers. “Am I able to leave?” he asked.
Madam Pomphrey, the infirmary nurse, gave him a considering look. “Stay away from men with daggers in the future.”
Harry smiled. “I promise, Madam.”
She gestured to the door, her usual order to get out while you still could, as she glanced at the two other women in the room. They were obviously not in agreement to her decision. Harry didn’t let her reconsider. He was up before anyone had a chance to argue. Once outside, he flipped the letter over to see just the name ‘Harry’ on it in perfect calligraphy. He shook his head. His own handwriting was much worse than that and no matter how hard he tried it would never change. The seal cracked easily when he slid his finger beneath it.
Ronald could feel the curiosity and fond exasperation rolling off Harry beside him. It soon turned into confusion, however. He wondered a bit at the spike of lust than disappeared as soon as it came when horror took its main place in Harry’s field of emotion. Harry stopped moving.
“Bad news?” he asked lightly, not sure what the problem was.
Harry ran.
Ronald watched him for all of two seconds before he took off after him. He followed his route, recognising the path to Harry’s quarters. His brow furrowed, though, when he called at the guards in front of his portrait to open it. It was open as he ran up to it and went inside. Harry was looking around in confusion not seeing anything around. Ronald wondered what he was searching for. Harry turned to the guards. “Were you here four days ago?” The guards looked at each other in confusion. “In front of my quarters,” he began frustrated, “were you in front of my quarters four days ago!”
One of them shook his head while the other nodded. Harry focused on him. “Did the Hufflepuff men bring anything here, a package maybe?”
He nodded again. “They placed it in your rooms. They said it was meant for your eyes... only.” He stopped when he realised he was speaking to air.
“Go to the infirmary and call Pomphrey,” they heard as the King raced through the common living area, passed his study and went up the stairs to his bedroom.
“I suggest you do what he says,” Ronald said going after him. The two guards left quickly, one staying at the door while the other ran down the halls.
Harry stopped stock still when he saw the large box in his room. It was long and standing tall. It was also nailed shut. He shook his head, not believing that Zacharias could be so stupid. He looked around for something - anything to pry it open. When Ronald came into the room, he was attacking the box with a candelabrum, having broken off the stand at the bottom that tapered a little to fit into it. He wedged it into the side where the lid was nailed down and was levering the thing open.
Ronald watched him, feeling the fear and worry shaking his bones and knew it felt the same for the anxious man before him. He frowned down at the parchment he picked up when Harry'd entered his quarters wondering what could get him so worked up and acting as if getting the box open was a case of life or death.
’Dearest Harry,’ he read and rolled his eyes.
I wish to thank you for your pushing me off that horse, though I believe a simple ‘lookout’ may have sufficed. I have bruises in places I did not know it possible. But I thank you anyway. I have left a wooden parcel for you in your rooms as a token of my appreciation. I know you will not like the idea of rewards but I honestly leave it as a gift from a friend to an ally. You have nothing to fear from me. Besides, it can help me appeal to my wife now that he is gone. When you have cleared me from your suspicions, I look forward to hearing from you.
Have fun.
Respectfully
Zacharias
He was not sure what the king meant by appealing to his wife but he did register the ‘now that he is gone’ especially when the lid finally came off and an unconscious blond man spilled out of the box. Ronald did not blame him. Four days without food or water could do that.
Harry sat up mid groan, sweating heavily, and blinked in the darkness of his room. He looked around, seeing nothing that could have woken him and put his head in his hands. His heart was racing. He panted quietly, slumped forward and pulled his legs toward him to sit cross-legged. As he moved them, he paused, shutting his eyes in mortified resignation. He lifted the covers and winced at the sticky residue on the underside of the quilt. Again. He’d done it again. It was like he was a teenager all over again. Getting up, he folded the sheets back completely and made his way into his bathroom. The basin of water had a cloth next to it and he stripped down before dipping the cloth in the water to wipe himself.
Harry put the feeling down to lingering effects from his fever, the one he did not even remember. If he didn’t, he honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him because he had never felt this way before, especially for a man. The blond dancer was in his son’s room, located up the other staircase in his quarters. James was staying with his grandmother for the time being. She didn’t mind as, upon hearing what had happened, she needed a distraction to stop herself from flying to Hufflepuff and committing an assassination attempt of her own, properly this time.
He’d sat by him for days while Madam Pomphrey and Dumbledore worked on him. Ronald had stopped in a few times and each time he frowned because he couldn’t get a proper reading. “It’s like something’s missing,” he would say and Harry would wonder what that meant. When no one was around, he would just stare. He couldn’t take his eyes off him and he didn’t know why. When he was away from the room, his thoughts would stray to the man in his quarters, wondering if he was awake.
Then there were his dreams.
Harry shut his eyes once more as the memory of the dream stirred his cock once more. He could still feel the soft skin of the man as he straddled Harry's thighs and continued his dance. The dreams had been erotic before, but this was downright indecent. His cheeks flushed bright red as the ghost of those hands once more held onto his shoulders as he ground down onto Harry’s cock, rolling his hips and tossing his head back.
Forcing himself to snap out of it, he looked into his mirror. There was debauchery depicted all over him and he groaned aloud. This could not go on.
When asked, any Empath’s explanation of their ability would include the terms ‘simple’ and ‘extremely difficult’. Harry often said Ronald was the most self-actualised person he knew, that he understood himself far more than any man. In his eyes held a wisdom that could not be held by hundred year old men. He was often amused but never angered; a quality that often infuriated the King. He suffered under no illusions of grandeur, despite how high he ranked as an advisor. Like most Empaths, Ronald Weasley would always state that his ability was better felt than it was explained, that identifying one’s emotions and understanding them was hard enough let alone having to decipher someone else’s. Just like hundred year old men, Ronald would say it came with experience.
His empathetic ability would be explained as a contradiction in terms. He would say it was enjoyable, yet frustrating. It gave him an advantage, yet took away the challenge. It made him an asset, but also an enemy. It was a gift... and a curse.
The Empathic life was not easy. The world he lived in was fraught with emotion ranging from passing thoughts to premeditated conspiracies. The problem lay in figuring out the important features. Some were hidden, others jumped at him, sometimes even in the form of pictures. The clearer the picture the more serious the intent. It lent him a branch of clairvoyance. That had proven effective on more than one occasion. It was how he’d known King Zacharias was in danger. The hatred of the assassin was so strong he’d seen the man raise the dagger more than once.
The snippet of action was a surprising factor of his ability that he’d learned about around the age of eighteen when the former Sovereign had died. He’d seen King James everywhere, his death an overwhelming tragedy to all and especially his wife and son. Harry had sat thinking of the man for hours. Ronald had seen them talking tearfully on the short pier over the lake. He’d seen Queen Lily in tears resting on the lounger with her head tucked under his chin. It was a sorrowful time.
However that was not the only emotion that evoked corporeal beings. Others, such as hate and lust brought them forward if felt strong enough. Since Dumbledore learned of his newest ability, he’d trained the redhead for months. Of course, it had its advantages but other times it was distracting. He’d seen countless fraternising bodies around the castle and grounds. He’d even seen himself on occasion when Blaise was around. When figuring out these ‘visions’ Dumbledore had taught him to keep to three simple rules:
Know the surroundings.
Know the source.
Know the emotion.
The first was the most important. It held the difference between saving a man’s life and ruining it. The second gave either a victim or a suspect and the third gave the motive.
Averting his eyes, Ronald could not think of any better example than the King getting a private session with their resident recovering dancer on his throne in the middle of appeals as he listened to the townsfolk. Ronald had to do a double take upon seeing the grinding motions before him. It was the third time for the day he’d seen the dancer in a compromising position with the king, all of them fuelled by lust radiating off the sovereign in waves.
He coughed, clearing his throat threateningly and saw the King jump in his throne. He narrowed his eyes at him and gestured to the farmer who was asking for help. He saw the brunet blush red and then sit forward. Ronald would have liked to think he learned his lesson but due to the blond dancer walking around the throne and sitting on the arm and sifting his fingers through the King’s hair, he didn’t think so.
Ronald rolled his eyes.
He was the Prince there was no other explanation, not when those bright green eyes, so like the King’s, stared at him in curiosity. The small boy leaned forward to touch his face and he allowed it. Children were not dangerous, curious as hell and annoying, maybe, but not dangerous. The child frowned but then broke out into a grin. “You’re so pale you look cold but you’re warm.” He climbed onto the bed and smiled at him. He was silent.
The child was strange but his grin was infectious. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Grandmother says you can’t talk. Is that true?” he asked. The boy got a nod in reply and broke out into a wider grin. “Wonderful! My name is James, this is my room.” He looked as though he was considering how to ask the dancer his name. “I’ll call you Dancer because Father says you’re a good dancer.” He hopped off the bed. “Will you play with me? I have lessons this afternoon but I have the morning for myself and my guards are outside. Ronald says he’ll come for me when my first lesson starts.”
The blond man was not sure who James was talking about but he could really do with stretching his legs. The nurse had told him to take bed rest for a couple of days but he was being driven mad by the women that kept coming into the room. He nodded to the young prince’s request and slowly sat up gauging whether or not he would be able to stand.
The corridors of Gryffindor castle were spacious and airy. It helped that there were high windows that let in light and a slight breeze that carried the essence of spring turning into summer. James ran ahead a little and waved him on down some steps that carried a scent of food. The smell of freshly baked goods filled the air as James opened the door. House elves bustled about, all being coordinated by a red-headed woman who was kneading a considerable amount of dough on a large table. A group of elves were cutting up fruit nearby.
“Hello Prince James, dear!” she called when she spotted him and the small boy ran over to her. The house elves bowed to him and moved out of his way as he passed. “Who’s your friend, lovie?”
James grinned and waved him over. “This is Dancer! He doesn’t talk but he’s going to play with me today until my lessons with Ronald this afternoon.” James looked over at his Dancer. “Dancer, this is Molly, she’s the castle cook.”
“Well, then you must be that poor man Poppy was talking about. Should you be out of bed young man?” she asked sternly and put a flour-laden hand on her hip. Shaking her head at boys in general, she looked down at James. “Don’t you go tiring him out, young Prince, or I shall tell your father just what you are doing to his guest.” James didn’t look too happy about that. She looked up at Dancer this time. “And you, Mr. Dancer, don’t you go collapsing on us or you shall have Poppy on your back for longer than you care for.” He nodded.
Looking around, Molly spotted the elves chopping up fruit and took up a sharp green apple. “Here,” she said and lobbed it over to him. He caught it deftly. “Eat something before you start to play with him, he’s very energetic, even for a four year old.” Before he was able to gesture a reply, James took hold of his hand and led him over to a door on the side of the kitchen that led outside onto the castle grounds.
A sweeping view of green grass that eventually drew the eye to a border of tall dark trees faced him and he took a deep breath of air. He looked down to see James tugging on the hem of the blue tunic the boy had brought for him, probably from his father’s wardrobe.
When James caught his attention, he grinned and then sprinted away, waving for Dancer to catch him. He was about to slow down when Dancer smiled widely and then chased after him.
Harry walked into his quarters and looked toward the staircase that led to his son’s rooms. He hoped the dancer was doing better. He’d heard from guards and servants in the castle that the man had been seen playing with his son around the castle grounds. He’d smiled when he heard it but he hadn’t seen him in days now. He knew Poppy was taking good care of him and had even relocated the man to James’ room as it was the closest place they could give him to recover.
Harry wondered if he should visit him. He’d spent a lot of time by his side the first day but once he was sure the man was in capable hands, he’d let the experts handle it. He couldn’t believe Zacharias had nailed him into that box. What would have happened if Harry hadn’t woken up for a few more days?
Harry shook his head as he walked up the stairs to his own rooms and scoffed as he opened his door. Zacharias was insane, it was the only explanation.
He unlaced the neck of his tunic and pulled it over his head, pausing as he grabbed the hen of his undershirt.
Something was wrong.
Slowly, he turned his eyes going wide as he spotted someone sitting on his dressing table. He swallowed hard and dropped the edge of his shirt, letting his hands fall to his sides.
The grey-eyed man followed the procession his hands took until they rested and snapped his eyes up to Harry’s face. Harry’s heart skipped and he felt inexplicably nervous. What was he doing in here?
The dancer jumped off his dresser, the gold bangles Harry had not noticed before clanging as he landed softly on the hardwood floor. He was wearing that same outfit, the one he’d worn when he first danced for him. Harry swallowed the saliva that suddenly flooded his mouth. Slowly, the blond walked over to the king, his posture showing none of the fatigue that had plagued him days before. Once again, splayed fingers rested against Harry’s chest and Harry felt the beat of his heart rattle against his ribcage. How was he able to do that?
“You – you do know, you no longer have to dance for me?” His hands were trembling. A nod answered him and the hand slowly moved down past his chest onto his stomach. The blond’s eyes stayed on his, watching and waiting for his reaction. “Was there... something you needed to sa – er, show me?”
That seemed to be an acceptable reply because a small smile that made Harry blush answered his stuttered question. The dancer moved away, his hand trailing around Harry’s body as he walked behind him before his presence disappeared. Harry turned to see the man on his bed sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. He smiled patiently and appeared to be waiting on Harry. The crooked finger beckoning him forward was a clue.
Harry tightened his hands into fists. He had to control himself damn it. “Why?” There was desperation in his tone but he didn’t care.
Grey eyes narrowed playfully, knowingly, and his legs widened sinfully on the bed, his hands coming forward to lever himself up onto all fours. He smiled sexily, crawling slowly toward the Gryffindor King, and stopped at the end of the bed before kneeling. He reached forward to grab Harry’s shirt and pulled him forward.
Harry hissed when his hard cock came into contact with the blond’s. Slowly, achingly, the man rotated his pelvis against Harry's and deepened his smile when Harry groaned. Grey eyes roamed the contours of the brunet’s face before they focused on his mouth and then suddenly Harry couldn’t breathe as the mouth he’d been staring at was pressed against his. White teeth drew in his bottom lip and gave way to a tongue that forced his mouth open.
Merlin, he was moaning wantonly as a tongue danced against his own and a hand slid up under his shirt and firmly down Harry's naked belly. Harry felt open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down to the juncture of his neck. It felt so good, the heat of the man’s mouth kissing its way down Harry’s chest in a straight line. His stomach muscles shuddered as the kisses paused at his navel, where a wet tongue licked its way inside and around as hands tugged at the laces of his breeches.
Harry suddenly found himself staring up at the high ceiling of his room and looked down to see a blond head stationed at his hips. He ran his tongue along his lips knowing they were flushed and swollen from the kisses that had abused his mouth before. He couldn’t really see but he could definitely feel a steady hot lick on the underside of his weeping cock from base to tip. Then he saw grey eyes focus on his as the man tongued the shaft before engulfing Harry’s cock in his warm mouth-
A loud, thunderous clap sounded close to his ear and Harry blinked coming awake shockingly fast as if he’d been pushed into the lake at winter. He inhaled sharply, looking around. The warm familiar walls of his rooms had changed dramatically into the spacious cooler atmosphere of the Great Hall. He frowned as he looked around and then stared ahead.
Ronald was standing there with his arms crossed and glaring at him. He pointedly looked down. Harry followed his line of sight and flushed a dark red. Shit. I fell asleep again.
“You are very lucky you are not hearing appeals this time. That would have been embarrassing.”
Harry shut his eyes. Yes it would have been. “I have to do something about this.” Ronald snorted. Harry turned and glared at him. “You think I want this?” he asked incredulously.
“You want something, Your Highness.” He let his arms drop to his sides. “I suggest you figure out what it is before I go blind.” He waited for Harry to nod in agreement. “I came to tell you that Sirius sends word that he will be here in two days,” he continued. “He says he has news for you that he must tell you in person.”
Harry nodded, happy about the news. He hadn’t seen Sirius in a long time. He remembered that he’d wanted to ask if he had relations in Ravenclaw. His features were so similar to the dancers he’d seen. “Alright.” Ron watched him some more before his gaze was captured by something behind his throne. Harry frowned as Ron snorted and shook his head turning to leave. He turned to peer around the high backed chair but saw nothing there. By the time he returned to ask what he’d seen, he found Ronald was already to the Great Hall’s doors.
Looking down, he decided he needed to find somewhere more private than the Hall to take care of his problem.
Harry stared out the window of the library. He could see his mother in the rose garden as his son walked alongside her. He smiled remembering that when he was younger he used to see his father doing the same thing. He looked down to the book in his hand. He’d tried reading until early hours of the morning to see if he could tire himself out enough to have some dreamless sleep. Severus had returned to Slytherin months ago which meant the stocks of potions in the castle were being rationed until he returned, only to be used in emergencies. Harry having constant, maddening, erotic dreams about a dancer did not qualify as an emergency.
The book hadn’t worked.
Harry sighed and walked away from the window, his mother and son long since disappeared from the view and around a corner of the castle walls that led down a grassy knoll toward the lake. A soft thud sounded in the aisles and Harry paused. It sounded as I a book had fallen. He turned to the front table and saw Madam Pince cataloguing, her apprentice, a young woman named Hermione, sat with her. Who is it then? he thought to himself and made his way into the stacks.
He did not discourage his servants from reading or writing, though he still found it surprising when he would see them in the library reading. He’d come across a few teaching their children too, which always got a smile out of him. He did not, however, expect to find them sat on the floor surrounded by books while reading one in their lap, which is exactly how he found the dancer he’d pried out of a box the week before. He stood at the end of the aisle staring. He’d never thought to think a man good looking before, the idea had just never occurred to him. Surveying the man before him completely unaware of his presence, however, the terms handsome and beautiful were glaringly obvious. Coming across him in reality for the first time in days reminded him not to feel bad about having those dreams and fantasies. Right now, he didn’t blame himself for feeling the way he did.
A sudden gasp snapped him out of his reverie and he straightened to the sight of the blond standing up and bowing to him. He then proceeded to put away all of his books.
Harry came forward quickly to stop him. “There is nothing wrong with reading. I was just surprised to see you here.” He let go of his wrists and picked up one of the books from the ground. “Are you feeling better?” he asked turning it over. A nod was his reply and Harry wanted to smack himself in the face. Why did he keep forgetting the man couldn’t talk?
Harry’s eyebrows rose. He knew the book in his hands. What surprised him the most, however, was that the book was in Latin. “You can read this?” he asked impressed.
The blond looked down to see what he was talking about. He looked up at Harry sharply and shook his head.
Harry watched him warily. He was lying. “Quid turpius est, quam menti’ri?1” he said and smiled when the blond was shocked and blushed pink. He reached behind him to place the book back on the shelf. “I don’t know how they do it I Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but we do not punish people for wanting to learn.”
There was silence and Harry let him stare, a mixture of shock, disbelief and wariness in the blond’s expression. Harry wondered at the blush that was still present on his cheeks and knew - knew - that he would be thinking of it that night. He felt a sharp stab of arousal in his gut and heard the blond’s intake of breath that sparked its way up his spine. He suddenly became aware that he’d moved closer, much closer. What the hell! He’d been about the kiss him. He was getting hot and had to control himself before he did something stupid, like believe that this was another dream. He couldn’t do what he felt like here, not in reality, but the arousal remained nonetheless.
Harry took a few steps back and finally turned to leave, not knowing what the hell was coming over him nor seeing the look of disappointment on the blond’s face.
Later, Harry watched the guards in training, sparring with each other in the courtyard. He sat on the steps alone, Ronald had left him some time ago claiming he couldn’t take the visions anymore and might as well go for James to start his lessons with Dumbledore. Harry blushed. His daydreams were getting more and more specific and apparently Ronald was able see all of them in mortifying detail. He sighed not knowing what to do. He raised his head at the opening gates on the other side of the courtyard and stood when he saw Sirius riding in and smiled. Sirius was his father’s best friend and much like a father to him now when he needed council or a few kind words. He acted as a liaison between Slytherin and Gryffindor territories now and was part of the active search for Prince Draco, who’d been missing for five years.
“Sirius,” Harry said jovially as he gave him a welcoming hug. “How are you?”
Sirius took a step back to look at Harry closely. He’d heard about the botched assassination attempt in a missive from Lily and came, in part, to scold him. Now, however, he didn’t have the heart. It had been a while since he’d seen him and he didn’t want to take up the time he spent here with arguments.
“I am well, but I’m afraid I carry bad news. Shall we go inside?”
Harry frowned in concern. “Of course. I was thinking of stealing something to bite on before lunch.” They walked up the castle steps and turned right to walk toward the kitchens. “What’s the matter, has something happened?”
“A small group of men tried to attack Malfoy Castle three nights ago. Security has tightened since and the royal family are outraged at their treatment, no matter how necessary it may be.” He had a wry grin on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. “How so?”
Sirius sighed. “They are practically prisoners in their own home. Queen Narcissa seems to have caught an illness and right now we do not know if it was induced or happened naturally. King Lucius does not know what to do with himself. Blaise was supposed to be leaving to come here with me but says he will be here later in the day.”
Blaise had been sent back to the Slytherin lands to help look after the royal family there a few weeks after he’d arrived. He visited on occasion but Harry was sure he would be of more use there than he would be in Gryffindor. Besides, Ronald had gotten tired of the constant passes the dark-skinned man made at him and begged Harry to do something before he did it himself. “Oh dear,” Harry said. They were nearing the kitchens now, he could tell from the scent of apple pie. “What can I do?”
“There is nothing you can do,” Sirius replied shrugging. “I shall send your best wishes for you. Severus is trying hard to solve the puzzle and asked for Poppy to come back with me to see if she can be of any help.” He turned to ask for permission. Sirius shook his head sadly. “Lucius is truly beside himself. I do not think he will do very well if he lost his wife as well as his son.”
Harry nodded, a flash of blond hair catching his attention immediately as the sound of a gasp echoed in the corridor. “Very well.” He looked down the corridor to see the blond dancer of his dreams standing in what looked to be his clothes. He wondered where he got them from.
The blond man stared at the two of them, his head shaking before he turned and bolted in the opposite direction.
Harry frowned, he seemed upset. “Who was that?” Sirius asked.
“A present from Zacharias. Was that all?” he asked Sirius. When the older man nodded he said, “Then please excuse me,” and ran after him.
Harry wished he’d positioned guards by the kitchens; he’d have been able to stop the blond immediately. He ran down the steps, following him into the kitchens but when he arrived, there was no sign of him. As he slammed his way through the door, all the elves dropped to the floor in a deep bow and Molly look up. She grinned. “King Harry, what brings you here?”
“The dancer, he’s blond. Did he come through here?” he panted.
“Oh yes, earlier with Prince James and just now. He went through that door, looked to be in a hurry too. Did that little boy rope you into playing with him too? I tell you he needs a-”
Harry didn’t hear what else she was saying as he’d already run outside. The plush green grounds faced him and he turned every which way until he saw the spot of blue darting across the field toward the forest. He immediately ran after him immensely grateful his shoulder had healed enough that it didn’t hurt with all this running. He was counting on the blond apparently being off bed rest to slow him down and was pleasantly proved right when he’d made it halfway across the field and noticed he was closing in a little.
By the time they’d hit the trees, He was only fifty or so yards behind him. They were running through the trees for so long that eventually, Harry saw the edge of the heath. Where the hell was the man going? “Hey!” he yelled again to no avail. The dancer was slowing down but he wasn’t stopping and Harry wished he would because he was dreadfully out of breath. The heath’s grass grew high this time of year, and with all the commotion going on, it went untended. The tall blades neared his neck now as it was coming up closer to summer than before when the carriages had arrived.
The tall grass of the heath slowed the dancer down more and Harry, who’d grown up with this heath, was able to close further in on him. “Hey!” he yelled once more before he tackled him to the ground. The grass bent and fell with them as they rolled over the stalks and eventually stopped. He braced himself as kicks and punches were aimed at him, pushing him off before the man stumbled back onto his feet and took off again. Harry got up again, the adrenaline causing him to endure the assault with little harm and follow him. Then he heard hooves. There were many of them and he knew that the other man heard them too because he slowed dramatically when they echoed louder. They were getting closer and Harry used the momentary distraction to bring the man down again.
Those were not his men. He could plainly see the outline of yellow on their uniforms but he did not recognise any of them as the guards who had come with Zacharias before. He did not know what Hufflepuff men were doing on his land, especially since he’d made it clear they were not to come back until he’d received word from Blaise about the would-be assassin. There were a lot of those going around, it seemed. He did not have on his crown and he could not confront them all at once, especially with a struggling runaway giving him this amount of trouble. The man below him was clearly upset, though he could not understand why. Then he looked up from his position on the ground at the riders some yards away. Did he know they would be here? Was he going to meet them here? The struggled fighting against Harry got stronger the longer he held him down. Then Harry saw those grey eyes were wet and, in his shock, loosened his grip, giving the man enough leverage to manage to shove him off. He turned and crawled on his hands and knees until he could stand again.
Voices. The men were closer. Harry tackled the dancer one more time, hearing his grunt as they both landed and the forced exhale that had been haunting his dreams. His lapse allowed him to lose advantage and soon the man had wrestled his way on top of him straddling him.
“Bloody grass, don’t know why they let it grow so high.”
The voices were so close they both froze. Harry put up his finger to his mouth telling the troublesome blond to be quiet, his hands still entrapping his wrists. If these men were there uninvited, they were obviously up to no good. He knew that if they got caught he had no way to prove he was the King and even if he did, there was no way the riders would pass up the opportunity to kidnap him or kill him. Harry felt his men had enough to deal with at the moment.
Grey eyes were staring at him intently and Harry suddenly found himself thrown back into all the dreams he’d been having where that look led to other very intense positions and situations. He hoped they weren’t written all over his face. He also hoped he could control himself enough not to harden with this man in such close proximity. Harry tried to ignore their position, it was all he could do now that he’d noticed it. After every dream he’d had lately, this was the last thing he needed. All he wanted to do was go home and to do that, the man straddling him had to remain quiet.
But despite the pink blush that worked its way up the man’s neck and face, he narrowed his eyes in defiance. Harry gave him a warning glare. It was bad enough that he’d made him run so far. He sat up and took both wrists in one hand, pulling him closer and trapping him there with a hand on his waist. The heat of his skin seared into Harry’s hands where his undershirt had ridden up in their struggle. He’d seen him half naked before, felt the skin in his dreams but never so real, never so close, not since the first day in the courtyard. Harry felt his breath catch and swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
The other man was panting. Harry could hear it loud and clear and the sound did nothing for his will, which was crumbling. Fast. The way he sat on Harry’s lap gave Harry a clear view of his throat and he saw the Adam’s apple bob as the blond swallowed, a mirror action to his own. Harry’s gaze flickered upward to see now dry, grey eyes staring back at him, framed by skin that was flushed pink.
Another voice called out before he had a chance to say anything. “Just check out whatever you think you heard. We should set up camp north of here, that area is hardly travelled.”
“Forget it then. I’m not getting down and searching through all these weeds. I doubt it was anything but rabbits anyway.”
The sound of horses snorting felt a lot closer than it actually was and Harry found it harder to hold onto to the man on top of him who’d renewed his will to escape. Every time he tried to get a tighter grip, the blond would pull away. “Where are you trying to go? Do you want to die?” he whispered harshly.
A look of defiance Harry did not know was possible passed over the man’s face. The horses began trotting away and Harry divided his attention between the men leaving and the man before him who was getting up and wrenching his wrists out of his grip. Whenever Harry tried to reach for him, he pulled further back. “You will come with me, if not you might die out here.” Both of them stared out across to the backs of the riders and then at each other. Then Harry focused fully on him when he opened his mouth.
“If I scream, we are both dead.” A dark blond eyebrow cocked as the dancer gestured to him. “My guess, you first.”
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Date: 2010-12-08 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-10 04:57 pm (UTC)there is no link!!!
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Date: 2010-12-15 11:37 am (UTC)