A Different Kind of Darkness

Chapter Three: The Women of the Harem

Nelly, the maid, welcomed Hermione into her chambers with a warm smile, assuring the Prime Minister in gushing tones that she would show the Lady Hermione around her new quarters. Percy didn't say a word, merely giving Hermione a final, measuring look before departing, though the two accompanying soldiers remained with explicit orders to guard the door on the outside.

Nelly, a short, matronly woman, babbled on bossily, showing Hermione around the apartment as she had so faithfully promised. Hermione listened vaguely as Nelly chattered on about pillows, towels and clothes, barely looking at the room; her focus was still on the conversation with Percy. Cold dread had sidled into her stomach and she felt slightly nauseous.

Nelly, however, was happily ignorant. 'It's lovely to have a few more ladies about the Palace,' she prattled on merrily, pulling a rag from her apron pocket and absentmindedly dusting one of the tables under the windows, which held a porcelain vase filled with freshly-cut blue hydrangeas, Hermione's perennial favourite. 'There are far too many gentlemen about - not that I have anything against the gentlemen, mind you,' she added with girlish coyness, 'but it's nice to see a few more women about the place, what with you, and Miss Virginia, and Miss Carmen all arriving in such quick succession -'

Hermione tuned out to the older witch's babbling, and after a few minutes, she tried to think of a tactful way to get rid of her. She thought simply saying, 'Get out,' would be a little rude, especially as Nelly was now chattering about how the Prince preferred to employ real staff as opposed to keeping house-elves, not only because he saw it as enslavement (Hermione had to work very hard to keep from snorting derisively), but it employed many people, especially when one considered the Wizarding World's dragging economy. 'Merlin knows where I would be if not for the grace of His Highness!' she gushed, fluttering a chapped hand over her heart. Hermione watched her, utterly nonplussed, and decided it would be better to wait until Nelly realised that she had other duties to attend to and left of her own accord. However, Nelly appeared to have all the time in the world and nothing to do with it except share gossip with the Palace's latest guest.

'Oh, you'll fit in, no trouble at all, Milady,' she commented, adjusting a crystal ornament of some sort on the bedside table. Hermione, wondering if this woman ever stopped to breathe, noticed that the wooden jewellery box lying beside the glass knickknack looked very familiar. 'And if you have any troubles, not to worry, I'm sure one of the ladies will be more than happy to help you out. Miss Claudine, now there's a real refined lady, she -'

Hermione felt a slight throb at her temples and pressed a palm to her forehead. 'Get out, please,' she said, almost desperately, well aware that she didn't exactly sound polite. Nelly, however, didn't seem at all offended or even fazed, obeying immediately with a short curtsey and a prim, 'Yes, Milady', adding that Hermione only need press the button in the wall next to her bed should she want to summon her.

Hermione plonked herself down on the foot of the four-poster bed, wishing she was anywhere instead of here. Even the Morose Marshes didn't seem that bad to her right now. She smiled slightly, remembering the horrible occasion when the sensory charms had failed, and the disgusting scent of the Marshes had permeated the entire house. But at least then she had been free, and with Ron. Sighing audibly, she forcibly pushed the memory out of her head and climbed back to her feet, taking a long, hard look around at what was to be her new home, all the while trying to recall the extra information that Nelly had been spouting. After a few moments, she grudgingly admitted to herself that it wasn't all that bad.

Her chambers were spacious and tastefully decorated. The cream-coloured walls were dotted with beautiful magical paintings, including one of Ethel the Exceptional, obviously painted after her descent into madness, as she was wearing nothing except a few strategically positioned oak leaves, and was skipping merrily around a marketplace, much to the horror of the innocent bystanders, particularly the village Abbot, who had fainted in shock.

The intricately carved oak-wood furniture of the room reminded Hermione achingly of her old Hogwarts dormitory, except the drapes on the enormous four-poster bed on the right of the entrance were royal blue instead of deep red. Made of the same plush material were the velvet hangings that dressed the glass doors on the far side of the room, which led onto a tiny balcony facing out over the Palace gardens, and the drawn curtains of the large, arched windows which allowed the sun's final, feeble bursts of light for the day to spill across the room. There was a golden coat-of-arms hanging above the fireplace, depicting an otter standing upright on an open book, while four comfortable-looking armchairs were placed in front of the wide, open fireplace. Another ornate door to the left led to a magnificent ensuite.

Hermione took a deep breath, inhaling the faintly musty scent of the room mingled with the familiar smell of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. The apartment had obviously been cleaned recently, and rather hurriedly. She suspected that it had not been used for some time or, indeed ever, as Nelly had transparently hinted in the midst of her interminable chatter, revealing in airy tones that while the Prince had been very specific in his orders as to how this chamber was to be decorated, it had never been used, not even after the Palace had been completed almost eighteen months previously. Hermione didn't need to ask for whom the room had been so carefully reserved; the answer was glaringly obvious, and it made her swallow nervously.

A brisk rapping on the chamber door interrupted her inspection. It was the only warning she received before the door was flung open and a young witch burst into the room, her magenta robes billowing in her rushed wake. Her short, dark brown hair framed her round face, which beamed earnestly at Hermione.

'Hi!' she said enthusiastically, proffering a hand. 'I'm Diane Kelley.'

A little confused, Hermione offered her own hand, which was shaken vigorously by Diane, and murmured her own name in response. Diane's smile grew even wider, threatening to split her face in two from sheer exuberance.

'Oh, I know who you are!' she exclaimed eagerly. 'I wanted to be the first to welcome you. Welcome to the Harem!' Apparently oblivious to Hermione's astonished gape at this announcement, she continued, her curious gaze travelling over the room. 'I've read all about you! And the entire Court is talking about what -' She was interrupted by the arrival of another woman, this one with dark-blonde hair in loose curls that fell over her shoulders.

'Oh, Diane, stop frightening her - she doesn't want to hear the court gossip,' the woman said smartly, smiling at Hermione. 'Hermione, right? I'm Joy Wells. You've already met Diane, I see. Claudine will be along shortly.'

'A harem? With three women?' Hermione breathed, quite unable to grasp the present situation clearly. 'He has a harem?'

Diane flopped unceremoniously into an armchair, still examining Hermione's room with interest, while Joy shrugged casually. 'Actually, you make seven,' she said, eyeing Hermione's bruised wrists as she parked herself on the bed. 'Did he tie you to the bed?' she asked after a moment's hesitation, her tone similar to what someone else might use to inquire about the weather.

Hermione was horrified. How could they think that? They speak from their own experience, whispered a small voice at the back of her mind. She felt herself trembling and grabbed one of the long, smooth oak posts of the bed with her right hand, unsure if she could keep upright by herself. A vision of Harry looming over her rushed before her eyes. 'I was captured,' she stuttered. 'They, uh ...'

'Now who's trying to frighten the new girl?' Diane cackled wickedly, carelessly placing her feet on the low table in front of the fireplace.

'Not you, Diane, I 'ope,' came a light voice from the doorway.

Hermione, still grasping the post for support, glanced over in time to see a third witch enter the room and softly close the door behind her. She was older than the other two and considerably taller.

''Course not, Claudine,' Diane responded quickly, pulling her legs back onto the ground and smiling sweetly at the older witch. Joy shrugged slightly, climbing off the bed and moving across the room to sit in the armchair beside Diane. Claudine shot a suspicious glance at the two witches before walking over to Hermione. Hermione hazily recalled Nelly saying something about a Miss Claudine, but through the haze of shock couldn't quite remember what it had been about.

'I am Claudine Rivain, eet eez a pleasure to finally meet you, 'ermione.' Claudine waved away Hermione's proffered hand and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. Hermione nodded wordlessly, eyes frozen wide open as she tried to process the last few minutes. She noted with panic that each woman was singularly beautiful - Diane with a pretty, merry face, Claudine possessing an elegant grace and delicate features, and Joy with a trim, athletic body accentuated by ice green robes that matched her eyes exactly - perfectly fitting for the harem of a royal ruler.

Claudine turned on the other witches. 'What 'ave you told 'er? Ze poor girl eez clearly terrified!' she exclaimed, glaring accusingly, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

'We just welcomed her to the Harem,' Diane replied, ill-suppressed laughter replacing her earlier exhibited enthusiasm. 'That's all.'

Claudine snorted impatiently, tossing her long, dark hair. 'I suppose zat you simply forgot to mention zat zis is merely a name we call ourselves, and not ze reality of our situation?'

Hermione began to breathe again, sliding down to sit on the edge of the bed.

'Must have slipped our minds,' Joy said nonchalantly, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

'Bien sur,' Claudine replied sarcastically, 'of course.' She turned back to Hermione. 'I am sorry zat I left you alone with zese two,' she apologised, sitting down lightly beside Hermione. 'Zey get bored, and ze temptation of terrorising an unsuspecting victim eez so rare for zem. I am sure zat zey are sorry too,' she added pointedly, glaring at the other two. They both grinned, completely unrepentant.

'That's all right,' Hermione responded, her heart squeezing, not only from relief, but from the recognition of who the mischievous pair reminded her of. 'I have some friends with a similar sense of humour.' She felt a pang of loss as her thoughts naturally drifted from the twins to Ron. However, she didn't allow herself to dwell on him; she didn't want to appear vulnerable to these women in any way, no matter how friendly they seemed. When all was said and done, their loyalties clearly lay with Harry. She pulled her attention back to the conversation.

'See? I told you she'd be a good sport,' Diane was exclaiming happily, smiling broadly. Claudine glared at her. Hermione, thinking that all she needed now was a cat fight between two courtiers in her new apartments, stepped in quickly to avoid a nasty confrontation.

'So, why are you called the "Harem"? Don't you find it just a little demeaning?' she asked with genuine curiosity.

Claudine abruptly forgot Diane and looked at Hermione, who breathed a silent sigh of relief. 'Zis is but a name,' she said, shrugging her shoulders.

'It's not a reflection of our positions here,' Diane butted in, ''cause, let's face it, His Highness doesn't need to keep a harem, what with all the witches he has chasing after him!'

Hermione gaped, feeling a prickling blush creep onto her cheeks, while Claudine and Joy simply shook their heads in exasperated disbelief.

'Di,' Joy said in an admonishing tone, 'leave your foot in your mouth - it might keep you quiet for a while.' Turning to Hermione, she explained matter-of-factly, 'You probably know that the idea of the harem harks back to ...' She cocked her head, frowning thoughtfully. '... well, a long time ago,' she concluded airily. 'In those days, it was tradition for kingdoms or governments to send gifts to seal alliances or as tributes, or whatever, and they usually included a beautiful woman for the harem of the ruler.' Joy rolled her eyes in incredulous amusement.

'Now zat ze kingdom eez governed according to ze divided provinces, each of zese 'as a delegate to ze Court,' Claudine explained.

'But you're not English, are you?' Hermione asked, frowning.

Claudine gave a benign smile. 'Non,' she said, as if the idea greatly amused her, 'I come from France - ze foreign allies 'ave all sent ambassadors to speak for zem at Court, and to serve ze Prince,' Claudine explained. 'But zese representatives are mostly wizards. We are ze exceptions, so we refer to ourselves as ze "'arem."'

'It's a bit of an in-joke,' Diane said, rejoining the conversation. 'Especially since we're each quite skilled in our own fields - Claudine is a Master Healer, and Joy is a Defence against the Dark Arts whiz.'

'And when she's not playing practical jokes, Di is our resident translator,' Joy put in, raising her eyebrows.

Diane nodded proudly. 'I'm learning my 24^th language at the moment - Mermish is such a pain,' she added with a grimace.

Hermione listened to the exchange intently, but in silence, wondering exactly what percentage of those people were foreign allies; Harry would have had to conclude a large number of treaties in order to have so many ambassadors present at his Court. His support base was broader than the Resistance had anticipated, and Hermione bit her lip nervously, knowing that she had no way of communicating this information back to them. Quickly concluding that worrying about something she had absolutely no control over was fruitless, she shook her head briefly, turning her mind to more immediate problems over which she could exercise at least some semblance of control.

'Look, I don't mean to offend any of you, but why exactly are you all here?' she asked frowning. 'In my room, I mean. Percy said you were here to help me get ready, but I think I can manage by myself, so if you all want to leave ...' she trailed off, noticing their surprised expressions.

''Ermione, we are 'ere to 'elp you get ready, of course. But our primary purpose eez to 'elp you learn ze etiquettes of ze Court,' Claudine responded briskly. 'Zis eez what ze Prime Minister told me.'

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. 'They still do that? What is this, the Middle Ages?' she asked with disdain. 'I'm not curtsying, kissing or kowtowing to anyone,' she declared determinedly.

'Then you won't last long here,' Joy stated simply. Claudine and Diane nodded in agreement, and Hermione shivered as an icy chill tracked down her spine. There was a long, awkward pause where the women simply stared at each other.

'There are many rules, but we need only cover the basics for now,' Joy ploughed in, breaking the silence and ignoring the intense flash of anger in Hermione's eyes. Joy pursed her lips, as if determined not to let this faze her. 'There have always been certain rules governing behaviour while in the presence of royalty: how to move, how to act, to talk and all the rest. And also what to do in particular circumstances, like how to react if His Highness speaks with you, if doesn't speak to you, or if he summons you to his private study -'

'- How to behave if the monarch starts to shout about the voices in his head, or skips around the room singing that he is a little teapot. Run-of-the-mill stuff,' Diane interrupted, somewhat impishly.

Joy shot Diane a withering look, which only served to further amuse the younger witch. Claudine wisely ignored Diane's additional comments and focused on Hermione, who had set her jaw stubbornly. ''Ermione,' she said gently, 'per'aps you would like to clean yourself and relax a little before we commence. A 'ot bath would be refreshing, non?' she suggested, offering a mellow smile that slightly softened Hermione's resolve.

'That would be nice,' Hermione replied, suddenly aware of her own sloppy appearance compared to the manicured perfection of the women standing in front of her.

'Go, take your time. We will find something suitable for you to wear zis evening,' Claudine said firmly, quieting any possible protests from any quarters with a small, but meaningful glance.

Hermione nodded and headed to the ensuite. White marble and large mirrors made it seem bigger than it actually was, she realised, as she closed the door behind her. She looked longingly at the enormous bath tub and smiled for the first time in many hours, although she felt slightly guilty at her delight. Being a leader of the Phoenix Resistance, Hermione had little to no time for herself, and long, luxurious baths were absolutely out of the question. She was lucky if she even got the opportunity to shower every day.

She sat on the edge of the bath and turned the taps on, watching a cloud of steam rise lazily as the bath started to fill with steaming hot, rose-scented water. She stood when the bath was about a quarter of the way full and began pulling off her grimy, torn robes, reflecting on what the women had told her.

I'm not curtsying, kissing or kowtowing to anyone!

Then you won't last long here.

At the moment, that was all Hermione was concerned with - surviving, so that, eventually, she might be reunited with her friends. But a small voice at the back of her mind asked a question that she didn't want to answer: could she meet the costs of survival? She sighed, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a sudden flurry of movement. She whirled around to face the intruder, but saw only her own naked reflection in one of the large mirrors hanging on the wall. A prickling sensation overtook her and she stepped closer, examining the young woman staring back at her.

Her body was covered in various cuts and bruises sustained over the course of the past few months, but she barely glanced at them - by now, being injured was an occupational hazard. Her gaze wandered to the almost frizzy brown hair, hacked off above the shoulder for convenience, framing a pale, drawn face, accented by large, brown eyes that were clouded with a mix of dark emotions. The rising steam from the gushing water billowed out, lightly kissing the bottom of the mirror as Hermione moved nearer. She hadn't looked into a mirror properly in a long time and was almost ... curious. Was this what people saw when they looked at her? Tentatively, she reached out a hand to touch the enigmatic reflection. However, the vapor gradually crept up and fogged the mirror, leaving the reflected figure hidden beneath a hazy layer of mist. Hermione hesitated, her eyes still locked on the now obscured image. She thought again about what Joy had said. You won't last long.

Gingerly lowering her hand, she darted a final glance at the shadowy figure in the mirror, before turning back to the half-full bath.