Ares' memory analysis revealed far more than I expected. The process took longer than anticipated, but the knowledge gained was invaluable. His memories stretched back millennia, and sifting through them was no simple task. That mind was… something else entirely. Before the war with those beings, Ares had been a true monster—obsessed with blood and slaughter. The things I saw in his memories were horrifying. And the divine creatures that tried to break through the anomaly weren't any better. Khorne, Slaanesh, and the others seemed even more deranged than the Olympians.
The Olympian gods had also eradicated every other pantheon, which explained their vast collection of artifacts. That was how Zeus came to possess Thor's hammer, for example. Beyond that, I absorbed Ares' knowledge of divine magic—a power entirely distinct from wizardry. It operated on a higher level, fueled by a different kind of energy. Spells powered by it were not only more destructive but also far more impressive.
Along with divine knowledge and Ares' own divinity, I received a surge in magical energy and an information package. Activating it brought the same sensation I'd experienced before—when I merged with another being. This one felt familiar, yet overwhelming. Compared to my tiny spark of divinity, I was nothing more than a gnat. The fire of Death's divinity was vast—galactic in scale—all-consuming, all-devouring.
The sensation of a watchful gaze pierced straight into my heart, but instead of fear, I felt only stillness. Alongside that immense presence came new knowledge—a spell. It wasn't strictly for combat but could shift the tide of battle. A concealment spell, it hid a person from every possible form of detection. Even the being whose remains I now occupied had no means to pierce it. Its name was simple: the Cloak of Death.
When the spell had settled in my mind, divine force expelled me from that colossal presence and cast me back. I drew a deep breath, letting the salty sea air cool my lungs. Opening my eyes, I rose and stretched my stiff body. At least now I understood a fragment of Ares' divine magic.
With a thought, a weapon formed in my hand—woven entirely from divine energy. I now knew how to command chariots, summon beasts, and care for them. The wealth of knowledge I inherited from Ares would serve me well.
Yet another thought lingered: perhaps I shouldn't have let Zeus live. Ares' memories painted him as a terror in the ancient world—and not in any noble sense. Still, it didn't matter. When he and his brothers attacked, I would revisit the question of his survival.
Returning to the goddesses, who were busy remodeling the house, I was struck by the transformation. Aqueducts, a vast pool, and a completely rebuilt home stood before me.
"Very interesting, what you've done here," I remarked.
"Come, I'll give you a tour," Aphrodite said eagerly.
Her intent to lure me into her bed was obvious, but after immersing myself in Ares' memories, the thought of her repulsed me. That goddess had lain with thousands of men—and even animals. I felt nothing but aversion. Athena wasn't much different. Whatever the myths say, her past was as twisted as Aphrodite's. She delighted in abusing captured soldiers, bedding her favorites and lovers, and even taking beasts—pegasi, dragons, and more.
Every Olympian was infamous for pursuing anything that moved—or anything that vaguely resembled an object of desire. Any notion of a dalliance with Aphrodite or Athena died instantly.
"I don't have time right now," I exhaled. "I've got other matters to attend to."
"You're so tense," Aphrodite purred. "Why not relax a little?"
She placed her hands on my chest, but I caught her wrists and pushed them away. Turning from her, I said:
"Amazing, how much you've managed to accomplish."
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, though she quickly masked it. She couldn't afford to anger me, not when I was the one who would eventually decide who received the Devil Fruit. To be honest, I wasn't opposed to the idea of giving it to someone—but I wasn't in a rush either.
Finding a candidate wouldn't be difficult. The wizarding world still harbored plenty of criminals. All I needed was the right person, and then I'd feed it to them and see what happened.
"Yes," Aphrodite said with a nod. "Athena and I put a great deal of effort into this house."
"I can see that," I replied, returning the gesture.
A plan suddenly formed in my mind. I had no interest in letting these goddesses interfere with me. Why not use what I had learned to deal with them? From Flamel's wife's memories, I recalled several spells that would be especially useful.
"Ladies, would you like a massage?" I asked casually.
"Of course," Aphrodite answered at once, her eagerness obvious. "I'd be more than happy to let your strong hands give me one." Athena also agreed without hesitation.
"When would you like it?" I asked.
"Right now," Aphrodite said, her eyes glinting. "What do you say, my friend?"
"I don't mind either," Athena replied.
"Then I'll need a little time to prepare."
"We'll be waiting in the massage room—ready," Aphrodite promised.
"There's even a massage room in this house?" I asked, feigning surprise.
"Of course," she said with a wide smile.
"All right. I'll come find you shortly."
Aphrodite and Athena left to prepare, convinced this was their opportunity to seduce me. They couldn't have been more mistaken. I had plans of my own. I began mixing oils suitable for massage—oils that could also serve other purposes.
Once my preparations were complete, and after refreshing my memory on the required spells, I made my way to the room where the goddesses were waiting.
Upon entering, I couldn't deny their bodies were truly divine. Many men would have instantly forgotten their long list of past lovers—but not me.
"Timothy," Aphrodite said, giving me a sly look. With a sensual smirk, she "accidentally" let her nipple slip into view. I smiled faintly, letting her think I appreciated the sight.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"Of course," I said. "You look divine."
"I'm glad you like it," she replied.
As I drew closer, the temperature in the room rose slightly. Had I not known it was a side effect of divine power, I might have been caught off guard. But now? It didn't even make me flinch.
I let a few drops fall onto Aphrodite's back, then onto Athena's. The potions began to evaporate almost instantly. To protect myself from their influence, I conjured an invisible air filter. My hands moved smoothly over their bodies, rubbing the mixtures into their skin while I quietly wove wandless sleep spells.
Within minutes, they were unconscious. Once I was certain their sleep had deepened beyond recovery, a wand appeared in my hand, and I began transforming them into true Sleeping Beauties. The enchantment took longer than expected. If it had been in potion form, the process would have been far easier—but so be it.
To avoid handling their bodies directly, I conjured sarcophagi around them, designed to maintain a perfect environment inside. Nothing could disturb their rest. I sealed the chamber with a spell that halted time itself. The enchantment was immensely complex, and if either goddess ever awakened, they would find themselves in a prison where time stood still. To stabilize it, I had to isolate the room in space and weave spatial-expansion charms like those used in enchanted bags.
By the time I was finished, night had already fallen. But for me, the work wasn't over. As a final precaution, I cast layer upon layer of wards around the house, ensuring no one but me could enter. I completed this just before dawn.
Snow began to fall, but the flakes dissolved before reaching the ground. Turning away, I drew a broom from my bag and swung onto it. The decision was made—I was returning to Paris. The broom accelerated quickly, and soon I was soaring above the sea. The moment I landed on a sandy shore, I Apparated away.
"My lord," Maria greeted me when I appeared in the house. "I'm so glad you've returned."
"I'm glad too," I chuckled.
"And what about those clingy ones?" the demoness asked slyly.
"They're Sleeping Beauties now," I said with mockery in my tone. "No need to worry."
"I'm glad you chose that path," she nodded. "Nothing good would have come of them."
"Oh, I know. Has anything new happened over the last few days?"
"Not particularly," the demoness admitted. "To be honest, I haven't had time to sort everything yet."
"Then I'll ask Narcissa," I said with a nod. "In the meantime, Maria, start catching up. I'll have a task for you soon."
"Of course."
Narcissa was already on her way to greet me, having heard of my arrival.
"My lord," she said with a respectful bow. "I'm glad to see you well."
"Yes. I had to take a few risks, but the result was worth it. What news?"
"Marie Charmaken and Lucia de Mendoza have asked to join the project you assigned me—as assistants," she reported.
"I see." I nodded. "And what do you plan to do?"
"I intend to give them the chance to prove their abilities. If they succeed, I'll consider working with them more closely. Marie, however, calls herself your lover… yet I've never once seen her in your bed."
"That's true," I smirked. "She's my lover whom I haven't actually slept with. Strange, isn't it?"
"Well, not for me to judge," Narcissa replied evenly. "Shall I waive her probationary period?"
"No." I shook my head firmly. "I don't want them compromising the project. If she manages to convince me in bed, then I'll reconsider."
"Very well," Narcissa said with a nod.
"How's Draco?"
"Thank you—he's doing quite well. He's resumed his magical studies, and I'm very glad for that."
"Good. Narcissa, write me a list of all the possible places where the Dark Lord might be hiding. I plan to visit England soon."
"Of course."
By evening, Narcissa had prepared a list of more than a dozen potential locations, each with brief descriptions to help me picture them more clearly.
Back at Beauxbatons, I held several important meetings on the Headmaster's behalf to ensure students had everything they needed for their studies. With the semester slowly drawing to a close, school affairs demanded more of my attention.
Fleur had once again begun spending her nights in my bed. At times she was replaced by Isolde, or Narcissa with Maria. Hermione, though clearly tempted, hadn't yet made her move.
"By the way, Timothy," Fleur said after we'd taken a hot bath together, "if you're interested, several of the other girls wouldn't mind private lessons with you."
"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Very interesting."
"And," she added slyly, "they also said they'd be willing to warm your bed."
"They said it exactly like that?"
"Well…" she drew out the word with a teasing smile. "Not quite, but I managed to get the truth out of them…"
"Something tells me it's not that straightforward."
And indeed, it wasn't. Fleur admitted it easily enough. She confessed that she had coaxed her classmates into talking, and the conversation had drifted toward their future plans and studies. Being in their final year, it was natural for them to wonder what came next. One thing led to another, and eventually the girls themselves suggested Fleur "ventilate" the matter with me. They clearly wanted access to the Emperor's body. A quick glimpse into their minds confirmed it: they weren't truly expecting anything, but each secretly dreamed of becoming a princess—spirited away by a prince on a white pegasus.
I wouldn't have minded, but it wouldn't have been fair to Hermione. Otherwise, it would look as if random classmates slipped into my bed with ease, while she remained waiting. For now, I had no intention of pulling seventh-years into my bed—and truthfully, the idea wasn't all that exciting.
My trip to England, I decided, would be postponed. A brilliant idea had struck me: annexing the country into my Empire. When I shared this with Amel, his grin widened immediately, and he began overflowing with ideas.
"I need you to assemble a team prepared to seize control of the country from those who resist me."
"And who will be our greatest opponents?" Amel asked. "I imagine Dumbledore will certainly oppose us, as will their Dark Lord, who has already begun scheming. Who else?"
"Possibly the Auror Office, the DMLE," I replied. "The Department of Mysteries will also resist, but if we assure them their operations will remain untouched, they won't make too much trouble."
"And will they remain untouched?" Amel asked carefully.
"We'll see," I answered with a smirk.
"I understand." He nodded, catching my implication immediately. "Then I'll handle it. By autumn, everything should be ready."
"If you need additional support or funds," I said, "come to me without hesitation."
"Of course."
Not long after, Apolline came to me. She lingered in my office after the conversation, asking me to cast privacy charms before growing handsy. A nanodrop of Philosopher's Stone extract stripped away her clothes in an instant and tossed her onto my younger comrade.
"Was there something you wanted to discuss?" I asked after enjoying her body.
"Yes," Apolline exhaled, still catching her breath. She lay at my feet, though neither of us felt like continuing our play. "Recently, I've spoken with several veela communities. The Council of Matriarchs wishes to meet with you to make certain proposals."
"And what sort of proposals?" I asked with interest.
"The veela communities cultivate rare herbs that almost never appear on the open market," she began, sharing information I already knew. "White edelweiss, red water lilies, and a few others, lesser-known. Several communities are ready to release them more widely."
"What do they want in return?" I asked.
Those plants would be invaluable for my experiments. Veela-grown plants were unique—only they could cultivate them, and only by choice. Forcing a veela to grow one would strip it of the desired properties.
"They want direct Imperial Protection," Apolline replied. "Beyond that, they can also offer other rare materials, should the need arise."
"Hm," I drawled. "Sounds interesting."
With Imperial Protection, no one would dare harass or pressure them. Doing so would mean facing my wrath.
That, however, raised another issue. I couldn't always personally intervene. I would need my own guard—an order that inspired fear in anyone with sense. In the future, when problems arose, I wanted others to tremble at the thought of my emissaries arriving. For that, I would need battle mages of the highest caliber, able to crush opposition without hesitation. A thought to develop further—but later.
"Yes, it does sound interesting," I said evenly. "Which veela societies are prepared to discuss this?"
"The Italian and French ones," Apolline replied. "I can arrange a meeting with their Matriarchs."
"Yes. Set it up for me."
"With pleasure," Apolline said. She shifted slightly, swinging one leg over before settling back down.
After that, she visited me several more times to discuss the meeting in detail. On my side, the master of ceremonies also became involved, as he would be the one to deliver the news to the ministers of other countries.
The correspondence progressed quickly—both sides essentially wanted the same thing. The only points of contention were compensation and terminology. Once those matters were resolved, the first meeting with the Matriarchs was scheduled.
Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the creation of my personal Imperial Guard. This was no easy undertaking—few were willing to swear eternal loyalty. Still, after a long search across Europe, the results proved promising. I even kept the Swiss mercenaries; their commanders had been uneasy about a lost contract, but once assured no one intended to dismiss them, that unease quickly evaporated.
The Imperial Guard would undergo rigorous training under Maltese wizards and other combat schools. The weakest would be dismissed, while the strongest advanced. The very best, with their consent, would bear the same seals as Maria and Narcissa. Those chosen would become the Emperor's fist—mine.
Sealed warriors would gain access to advanced, dangerous knowledge, enjoy abnormally high pay, and upon retirement be granted the right to settle freely on a private piece of land.
In the rare moments of free time—away from imperial duties, headmaster duties, and teaching—I devoted myself to my own growth. I needed to fully master divine power. I had seen how Ares wielded it—bending it to his will with effortless ease.
For me, it wasn't nearly as simple, no matter how hard I tried. The difference was that Ares had spent millennia perfecting each skill. I might know the most efficient way to achieve something, but knowing and doing are two very different things. For knowledge and skill to truly align, I had to devote time to mastering divine magic.
The defining trait of divine magic was that magical laws simply didn't apply to it. Wizards are forced to devise roundabout methods to bypass barriers—whereas divine magic faces no such restrictions. The barriers simply aren't there. True, my reserves of divine magic were still small, since I had no worshippers. But once I did, I would gain enough power to resurrect the dead. There were, of course, limits: a soul could be too damaged, or consumed by another being. But even so—the ability to bring back the dead… that was worth an immeasurable amount.
Another problem I began tackling was developing a method of rapid travel between islands. I wanted to move from Corsica to Paris without relying on a broom. To design such a method, I first had to uncover why spatial travel across seawater didn't work.
Without divinity, discovering the root cause would have been nearly impossible. But once again, divinity revealed the truth. The reason one cannot cross vast bodies of water by magic is because of Poseidon, Zeus, and Hades. They are the culprits. At the height of their combined strength, they wove a divine spell that only they could control. I learned this from Ares' memories—his divinity now part of me—and from my own curiosity.
Armed with that knowledge, I could at least search for potential workarounds. Yet, knowing the scale of divine power, I doubted any true solution existed.
To alter that spell in any way, the Olympian brothers would need to return to their full strength and reclaim control of it—for spatial travel across seas is a divine gift that only Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades can grant. No other gods ever held dominion over it; even they had to appeal to the brothers to cross.
When they come for me, I'll strip them of everything—their divinity, their knowledge, their control over that spell. In the end, it all comes down to when I decide to feed the fruit to a wizard. I could do it right now… but why rush? Don't you agree?
***
Harry Potter sat in class, staring at the new Potions professor, Horace Slughorn. He was nothing like Professor Snape, who had died from a curse. No one knew exactly where the curse had come from, though Harry suspected it struck when Snape was freed from captivity in Malfoy Manor.
The memory of his own time there made him flinch. The spots on his body where the tattoos had been carved itched terribly. He wanted to scratch them but held back. He had been too nervous lately. The worst part was that the tattoos couldn't be removed—only covered with cream. And even then, the marks returned after only a few hours.
His mind drifted to the things he had been forced to do there, and disgust rose within him. Bellatrix appeared instantly in his thoughts, her vile laughter echoing in his ears, the face of relentless torment.
"Mr. Potter," the professor's voice cut sharply through his thoughts. "Are you still with us?"
"Uh? Yes, professor. Sorry," Harry replied quickly.
Slughorn only nodded and returned to his lecture. Dumbledore had convinced him to return as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. Otherwise, Slughorn would have remained in retirement, spoiling his favorites and indulging in students and protégés. Somehow Harry knew that, though he didn't dwell on it.
When the bell rang, the students began to pack up their things.
"And remember, I expect an essay ready for next week's practical," Slughorn reminded them.
The students noted it down and dispersed. Not much time had passed since the massacre at the World Cup, and while everything around them still carried its shadow, children adjusted quickly. Adults, however, did not.
"Harry," came a familiar voice.
He turned and saw the red-haired girl watching him with a shy expression.
"Ginny. Hey."
The memory struck him at once—her brother's skull cracking under his hands. He remembered the stone, the desperate blows, the fight for his own survival. No one had ever found out. And now here Ginny was, trying to catch his attention.
Harry knew all too well, after his captivity under Voldemort and Bellatrix's abuse, what boys could do to girls in locked rooms. But after his own experiences, he had no desire to be shut in such rooms himself. It was as if someone had cut the very idea of desire out of him.
"What are your plans for today?" Ginny asked.
"Not sure yet," he answered. "If it's not too windy, maybe I'll take my broom out. Or maybe not. Why?"
"I was hoping to ask you for a walk," Ginny said with a small smile before glancing away, embarrassed. "If you don't mind, of course."
"Heh," Harry chuckled softly. "Why not. I could use a little distraction too. Let's meet in a few hours at the entrance to the common room."
"Yes," Ginny nodded.
Harry intended to spend some time simply relaxing, without dwelling too much on the future. The inter-house competitions were no longer what they once had been. Yes, the Dark Lord had returned and was drawing wizards into his net, but that hardly touched the students. Few of them were useful for anything serious. True, children could spy—but who at Hogwarts was there to spy on? No one.
Since his return from captivity, Harry hadn't left the grounds of Hogwarts and avoided wandering dark places alone. The secret tunnel he had once discovered had already been reported to the Headmaster, and Dumbledore had ensured it was sealed, no longer a link between the school and the outside world.
Red-robed Aurors could often be seen patrolling around Hogwarts, stationed there to prevent violence. The deaths of so many students had shaken the demographics of wizarding Britain, and the Ministry had decided to reinforce the protection of its future.
Overall, the Triumvirate governed with relative competence, which allowed recovery to proceed smoothly—without extremes or scandals. Yes, problems arose here and there, but nothing yet capable of provoking widespread unrest.
Harry didn't pay much attention to any of this. He met Ginny without worry, their conversation drifting aimlessly. He mostly listened while she filled the silence with chatter. On their walk, they caught sight of Headmaster Dumbledore, strolling calmly, lost in thought. A phoenix perched on his shoulder, its sharp eyes watching everyone they passed.
"Kurlu," the bird croaked.
The students had no idea how deeply troubled Dumbledore was by events unfolding on the continent. His former student, Timothy Jody, had risen in barely a year from a well-known Master to an Emperor, succeeding Otto VI. Otto had not been a close friend, but he and Dumbledore had always treated each other with mutual respect. Even so, that was not the strangest part. Somehow, in a matter of days, Timothy had twisted circumstances in his favor, first bringing half of Europe under his control—and then the other half.
Dumbledore's attempts to organize an opposition had collapsed quickly and decisively. To oppose, one had to survive—and survival was increasingly rare. That was why the Headmaster had chosen to wait. Too much about Timothy's rise felt unnatural, even wrong. A wizard should not be able to grow in power so rapidly. It defied the laws of magic.
What worried him more was Timothy's vindictiveness. Dumbledore remembered all too well how Snape—his own subordinate—had struck Timothy from behind, and how Dumbledore himself had sided with Snape. The curse Timothy unleashed afterward had proved impossible to lift. It consumed the Potions Master more thoroughly than anything else could have. Perhaps, with the Philosopher's Stone and the Panacea, Snape might have been saved. But Dumbledore had already given the Stone to Timothy for research.
Could that have been the secret of his meteoric rise? Perhaps Timothy had discovered a way to enhance himself with the Stone. Questions piled upon questions, with no answers in sight.
At this point, Dumbledore doubted he could even defeat Timothy in a duel. Who could say what spells, what forbidden disciplines, the new Emperor had mastered?
***
The meeting with the Matriarchs, arranged by Apolline, was scheduled for mid-summer, after the end of the school term. It was held at one of my out-of-town residences on the Italian peninsula.
The veela Matriarchs proved exceedingly courteous. They did not immediately attempt to press their auras for advantage. These were women seasoned by long lives, who had seen much and dealt with many wizards.
"In general, Your Imperial Grace," said the eldest Matriarch. Her hair was gray, her eyes slightly clouded with age, and her presence carried a faintly feral undertone. She paused as if taking in a deeper breath of freedom. "We like your proposal. It aligns closely with what we had hoped to achieve from the beginning."
"Both sides are satisfied," I replied. "I too consider this agreement a success. All that remains is to sign the documents."
The documents were signed, and within weeks the first shipments of rare plants reached the largest markets of my empire. The development caused a stir at every level. During the first month, demand far outstripped supply. Merchants, along with the Potion-Makers' Guild, raised prices and reaped considerable profit. They had been prepared: as soon as they heard of the treaty, they sent envoys to me, eager to convince me to seal the deal.
Under their "pressure" and countless promises, I relented, securing allies across every interested faction. The veela gained their protector. Merchants gained access to unique goods. Potion-makers received rare ingredients at half price. Ordinary wizards enjoyed new potion components. Ministers gained prestige for their role in negotiating the treaty. Everyone attached themselves to it—and everyone ended up indebted to me, some more deeply than others.
By acting as a "connector," my reputation improved even among staunch opponents of monarchy. Once, I myself had been against monarchs. But now, standing in a monarch's place, I found myself firmly opposed to revolutionaries.
Apolline received her own reward and gratitude from the veela. That recognition mattered greatly to her—but it also meant that whenever I summoned her, she came eagerly, bending to my will. And of course, such an arrangement could not remain secret forever.
"Mother?" Fleur said in shock, staring at Apolline as she rode me. "Timothy… well, damn."
"Darling, I'll explain everything!" Apolline blurted at once. She tried to cover herself, but I seized her wrists, pulling her close and quickening my pace. "Ahhh!"
In that position, climax came almost effortlessly.
"Finish up," Fleur exhaled. "And then, Mother, you and I need to talk."
"Y-yes," Apolline moaned.
I only pressed harder, relishing Fleur's unexpected decision and the freedom it gave me. We finished sometime that evening, when Apolline, utterly drained, could no longer continue.
Fleur, meanwhile, busied herself with other matters. It would have been foolish to sit idly and wait. Knowing my stamina, she had wisely chosen to occupy herself elsewhere.
"Fleur," Apolline began nervously afterward. The woman was unsettled, visibly embarrassed. She had never imagined her own daughter would catch her in such a compromising scene. "I…"
"Stop," Fleur interrupted. "Before you say anything, I want you to know… I don't mind your relationship with Timothy."
Apolline exhaled in relief. It seemed there would be no conflict after all. I had known that from the beginning, which was why I hadn't worried.
"But what will Father say when he finds out? You won't be able to keep this secret forever," Fleur asked.
"Your father, Fleur, hasn't been able to do anything in bed for a long time," Apolline sighed. "After Gabrielle's birth, it was as if his strength was taken from him. We tried all sorts of things, but nothing worked."
"That's not the main reason," Fleur said, though surprise flickered across her face.
"Yes," Apolline admitted. "The Philosopher's Stone. It has a powerful effect on those of us with veela blood."
"So that's how you ended up in his bed," Fleur breathed. "Now I understand. How long has this been going on?"
"Well…" Apolline drew out the word. "Since winter."
"I see," Fleur nodded. "And what about Gabrielle? She's complained that you've hardly been speaking to her lately."
"Well…" Apolline sighed. "Yes, I've been… busy."
"Yeah, I know how," Fleur muttered.
"Anyway," her mother pressed on, ignoring the barb, "Timothy, I assume you wouldn't mind one more girl?"
"Mum?" Fleur groaned, closing her eyes. "You've completely lost your mind from all this sex. I was asking if you're going to talk with Gabrielle—and you're suggesting she end up in Timothy's bed too? That's not what I expected from you."
"Oh, come now, Fleur," I said, stepping in to hug her. She softened a little, even leaning into it. "It's not like you're really against the idea…"
"I'm not," she admitted softly. "But I don't want to share you with her too."
"You won't have to," I smirked, rubbing my chin in thought. How had it come to this, that I was on the verge of gaining another girl? "There's enough of me for everyone."
"Hermione's already waiting," Fleur reminded me.
"I was planning to make her mine fully when she turned sixteen," I replied. "It was meant to be her gift."
"Ohhh!" Fleur exclaimed. "Then I'll tell Isolde, Narcissa, and Maria. We'll prepare her."
"I want to help too," Apolline added quickly.
"Fine," Fleur sighed, rolling her eyes.
And so it was decided. Within a week, all the women who shared my bed knew that Apolline was also my lover. Surprisingly—and delightfully—this caused no real problems, though I had expected at least some protest. As for Maria and Narcissa, I hardly considered their opinions—I already knew they would accept any decision I made.
Hermione had been displeased for a time, but our first kiss soothed her, and the whispered promise that we would finally lie together on her sixteenth birthday restored her joy.
Summer passed quickly, filled with decisions, training with the girls, and planning for the future. The Imperial Guard continued their drills, occasionally carrying out assignments I gave them. There weren't many, but they were enough.
Amel was preparing the men who would travel with me to England. Fleur, having completed her studies at Beauxbatons, no longer needed to attend classes. Hermione, not wanting to be left alone, spent her time with Gabrielle—which was how Fleur ended up telling her about my intentions for her little sister.
For Hermione's birthday, we organized a small family gathering. Narcissa, Maria, and Dorsani—recently returned from her academy—served at the table.
"Hermione, how about a walk?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered quickly, her cheeks flushing almost at once. The knowing smirks of the others left her entirely unfazed.
"Have a good time," Fleur said warmly. Isolde simply nodded. "Very soon… we'll all be doing this together. It'll be amazing!"
"Eh, no," Hermione countered with a playful smirk. "You've had him all this time. Now it's my turn to enjoy myself."