Persona

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. J.K. Rowling does and she has the right to do whatever she pleases with them. However, what I do own in the story is the plot. So, please do not sue me...

---

Harry Potter had been to many social gatherings before but never had he felt this excruciating need for privacy. He had arrived at the ’s manor, prepared for the long night awaiting him, anticipating for the remarks of his gentlemen “friends” regarding his business, and the meaningful glances that the women would be too generously providing his way. He knew the moment he stepped into his phaeton that despite the mask he was wearing, people would recognize him easily.

And he was right.

Everyone who had been near the entrance had immediately recognized him. Smirks had never been flashed too quickly and fans had never been fanned too fast. After two hours of conversations that didn’t seem to stop in the least, and dances that had him tired as he’d never been, Harry was bored and completely worn out. He wanted a break. He figured that his exhaustion from today’s work, and then the impending one he was to have tonight had been a bit too much and his body responded early in anticipation. Detaching himself from the wall he was leaning on, he crossed the ballroom, dodging greetings with a slight nod, and excusing himself properly when people tried to engage him in a conversation as he passed by, saying he had to go to the loo.

Out and all by himself with neither servant nor a guest in sight, Harry made his way across the hall, passing by rooms that had some occupants inside, and ended up at the other end of the mansion where an exit led to the entrance of a balcony was. The part of the manor was dark and so it seemed only fitting that no one would be there. Disregarding the phrase “breaching of territory”, he walked out and looked around.

You would hear the drop of a pin with the silence he came upon.

‘Thank God.’ He thought.

His footsteps barely making a sound, he slowly trudged his way to the ledge, careful not to trip on his feet. It was nearly impossible to see anything with the clouds covering the moon. As he took a step forward, the makings of a marble ledge began to form and he could make out its shape, which was arched in a conventional way.

His glass in hand, he leaned over the ridge and took in the familiar taste of the brandy he was sipping. After what seemed like infinity, he was gripping the round glass quite tightly as he felt recognizable constrictions forming in his throat, making it damn impossible to breathe.

His emotional instability had been returning quite frequently lately. It was embarrassing to say the least even though no one knew it but himself. For six years, he kept having this urge to cry whenever grief invaded his peace or exhaustion sank in. Ever since he took over his parents’ estate, he had lost the feeling of being carefree and living on his own. Suddenly, the burden of hundreds of people who were all depending on his puny knowledge on how to run an estate was cast upon him. And even though he had accomplished that feat, he neither felt pride nor happiness. What he felt was an even bigger responsibility of trying to keep that success in tact, or else he’d be facing the disappointment of many.

Sirius knew about this, of course, just not the crying part. His dad’s best friend kept insisting that what he lacked was a wife and a child of his own. Harry waved this idea away as if it were a silly notion and told Sirius that the last thing he wanted was to have another life to be responsible of.

And that “love” Sirius was talking about that afternoon was not what Harry wanted now or ever. He just made that an excuse so Sirius would stop pressing him to marry for they both knew the basic truth in society. No one married for love. And if they did, that was something near to impossible. And Sirius was quite strange in his own way. Maybe that was the reason he and Alicia had that.

Harry scoffed. How could he, a man who had such a dark past, learn to love? For him, this was not near to impossible. It WAS already impossible.

“Oh, bugger!” He heard someone hiss at the far corner of the balcony, disturbing his thoughts. Aware that he was not in any form of danger at all, with Voldemort gone, Harry lowered his guard and turned his head towards that direction, wondering if he had just imagined what he heard.

Then he heard the rustling of something, a cloth, presumably and he left his place at the center and made his way to whatever it was.

As if it had been choosing the perfect time to reveal itself, the moon suddenly appeared behind its hiding place and light was instantly cast upon him and his “troubler”. He was not surprised to see a woman in front of him, but he was astonished to see her in a position he least expected her to be.

She was bending over the ledge where a smaller one was jutting out as a place to hold pots of azalaea and daisy blooms. She was trying to look for something, he surmised. He watched, silently amused by the sight and postponed announcing his presence, despite knowing it was improper for him to be there, enjoying the scene that a lady, whom he had not been introduced to, was putting up.

“Ah…” He heard her say in a voice that held triumph. He wondered the reason for her tone, but even more so when she did not straighten immediately. He decided to end his thoughts and whatever it was she doing.

He stepped closer…

“I fear that I would not be able to compliment you on your choice of robe, mademoiselle, if I were to continue looking at it askew.”

---

Hermione Granger, daughter of the Earl of Ravenclaw, gasped at the sound of a deep voice echoing from behind her. She immediately straightened up from her awkward position, only to have her stepping on the back hem of her robes, and then losing her balance.

She was prepared to hit the cold, hard floor of the balcony, but all she felt next was two strong arms, closing around her, warmly and boldly encircling around her waist. Whoever it was kept her firmly in his embrace, if you would call it that, until she had steadied herself.

The man, who had saved her from some pain, stepped backward as soon as she had righted her position and shoved his hands into the pocket of his robes. He was waiting, she presumed and she found herself amused, rather than embarrassed by the state of impropriety she had been in seconds before. She knew she should tell him off because of his lack of respect for the society rules.

She decided to thank him instead.

“I suppose I should thank you for that…”

“Yes, I believe you should.”

His light tone drew her in and she found herself with a slight grin as she shot back. “And I believe that a simple one would not suffice?”

“You know me well already.” He said.

“You can wager that I do.” She said with a coy smile.

---

Harry frowned at this. He sighed. There he was, enjoying himself quite profusely, believing that the woman in front of him could not recognize him, when all of a sudden, she announced that she already knew who he was.

Just bloody brilliant!

“How is that, my lady?” He decided to ask in a clipped tone, already starting to formulate the way to end the conversation.

“Because of your tone, my lord.” She provided and Harry relaxed instantly.

He had been wrong. She didn’t recognize him. Because if she had, she would have addressed him as “your grace” not “my lord” which was required and implemented by the rules of the ton. But then, if they were going to follow the rules of the ton, then they shouldn’t be here in the first place.

He ought to ask her, of course.

“It would take quite a while for you to make up for what I did. Are you certain you would not be scandalized by the idea of being seen with a man without a duenna?” Harry asked.

“I have already passed that stage of having a duenna, my lord. I am no longer in need of such restrictions.”

“Is that so?” He inclined his head at the thought of her sounding quite young, and feeling quite young when he had held her in his arms. If she were above twenty-one, she would have been much different. He should know. He had a lot of experience with women.

Having mistresses every now and then had never been a problem for him. He was still human after all, and he couldn’t figure out where to place the extra money he was earning. So why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Yes.” She nodded. “So, do tell me how I could repay you for your heroic deed.” She asked sarcastically.

Harry knew that she did not believe his catching her was such a big deal, which meant, that she, too, wanted to stay.

“Why not tell me what you were doing before I intervened?” He casually leaned on the ledge and watched her gaze flew at him.

Even in the dim light, he could tell that she was embarrassed. He only wished he could see her face. It was covered, just as his was, with a mask. Her hair was up, entwined on a bun, neat and deceiving, and her costume was flamboyant, in contrast to the darkness of the night.

“It was nothing. I was leaning far over to see the lavenders growing beyond the ledge and my necklace got tangled. I was trying to straighten it out.” She said.

It would have been a logical explanation had it not been for a minor detail.

“Do you like lavenders so much that you just had to see them up close?” He asked.

She nodded a little too enthusiastically.

“Then I will see it as a favor if you would point it out to me when you see one.”

“You can very well see one now, my lord. It’s right over there.” She gestured towards the place where she had been bent over.

“I do not believe so, mademoiselle. Those flowers are azalea and daisy.” He grinned as he heard her sharp intake of breath at the realization that she was caught. “If I am not mistaken.” He added belatedly, relishing the look of guilt on her face.

He moved a bit closer to the ledge and pluck out one of each kind. “Do you know that azaleas are only handled by those who have quite the temperance and daisies are comfortable with the innocent? Such a contrast, wouldn’t you say?” He handed her the two blossoms.

Hermione laughed lightly as she recognized to whom his comment was referring. She took the flowers from him. “You are right.” She put them up to her nose and inhaled their scent. She, then, inclined her head to the side and gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m going to tell you the real reason. But just so you know, I am not actually liable to do this. Your deed wasn’t that great. I would have been all right.”

“And suffered quite some pain and dirt? I do not believe so, my lady.”

“I was trying to hide the cards.”

Harry was prepared for a lot more dire explanation. But this one had him blinking in surprise and laughing in helpless enjoyment.

“You mean to tell me that you were bent over there just so you could hide your cards?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” She asked.

“Well, it’s a long way from your lavender excuse.” He shrugged. Then he regarded her with laughing indifference. “How many?”

She paused then looked at him, her gaze boldly traveling from his head to foot. “You, my lord, are treading on forbidden territory.”

He chuckled. “And you, my lady, should know that does not concern me.”

She giggled at this. He found her laugh pleasant and suddenly, he knew he wanted to hear more of it.

---

Hermione looked down, took a deep breath and then faced her inquirer.

“Seven.”

His brow quirked. “Really? Is that all?”

“Yes. That is all. I am not so popular, you know.” She said.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” He said. Then he splayed his hands in front of him. “Forgive me for asking, but shouldn’t you be flattered that that many gentlemen would like to escort you home?”

“Not in the least.” She shook her head, silently confronting herself for being so honest to this man. But then, she had never felt so at ease with anyone before and he had the appeal that made one trust him so easily. “I have a very comfortable chaise waiting to transport me home and a trustworthy coachman to see to my safety.”

His silence after that gave Hermione the time to scrutinize the pleasantly unprincipled gentleman in front of her who was abandoning a lifetime of society rules while having this conversation.

It was dark and nearly impossible to make out much of his details, but Hermione never questioned his physicality. He was superbly fit. She had to give him that. The way his arms had closed in on her moments ago gave her the impression of bold masculine strength.

He was tall. Over six feet, she would say. His shoulders, broad and stretched into a good posture, led to an undoubtedly muscular chest, which tapered down to narrow hips and sturdy legs.

For his facial features, she couldn’t see much of it, what with the dim light and his mask covering it, but his jaw looked to be perfect, just the right type for his face, which was somewhat lean and not to stubby or skinny. Actually, it was rather striking and scandalous for such shape to be a man’s.

And the way he smiled. That was another thing. It was boyish, playful, and mysterious, yet when it was gone; it left behind firm lips that were set into a thin line that was did not hold the idea that it could produce such dazzle, but its appeal never wavered.

And neither did his.

“So what would you say when it is time for you to give your card?” He asked, disrupting her thoughts, those lips she had just been thinking of, forming a lazy grin.

“I would tell them that I had given it to someone else.” She shrugged, unsure of what to make of her own descriptions of him.

“Would you?”

“Would I what?” She asked, confused.

“Give it to someone?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have no intention of giving false hopes to that gentleman that I would be entertaining his suit.” She countered.

“My lady,” He laughed. “He is just to escort you home, see that you are well. Surely that does not mean that he intends to court you.”

“You, sir, have obviously been away long, for you do not move about the rules that govern this very society you are in.” She surmised with a good-natured smile. Unknown to Hermione, her statement would have given him a blow, but the way she said that had him overlooking it.

“I have no intention, whatsoever, to become a leashed dog and let those rules be my master.” He shrugged.

“Why is that?”

“I was not brought up to be that way.”

“And what were you brought up to be?”

He looked at her with so much intensity. “Human.”

Despite the amused glint in his eyes, Hermione would have wagered her life that the man in front of her had been serious. But the sparkle in his eyes indicated not just amusement but also a warning, one that was advising her to stay away, to neither feel pity nor concern for him because he was well-off without it.

But not for long did she pretend she didn’t care.

Strangely, she felt for him. However, she was not in the place to do so. He could have a wife for all she knew.

She was taken aback by the revulsion she felt once she realized that he might as well did. Unable to stop her curiosity, she finally asked. “And what does your wife think that she had married a man who is---unfamiliar?”

“She is quite ecstatic to have someone so unconventional.” He chided.

Hermione didn’t know that her face showed her emotion, but it did. What the duke saw just before she had looked down had him throwing back his head and laughing out loud. He took a risk by tipping up her chin in an intimate manner so she could look at him.

Until then, he had not known how close they were standing away from each other.

“If I had one, mademoiselle, I would not be here, enjoying this conversation with you.” He amended; pleased to know she was as attracted to him as he was to her. “So do not look too upset.”

Hermione looked flustered. If she had not been guilty as sin, she would have thought him to be arrogant. But then, just as the case was, she was guilty where he was concerned. Yet, she refused to admit anything. “I was not upset.”

“Must have been imagined it then.” He shrugged and took another sip from his brandy, looking at her over the rim of the glass.

She took a deep breath. “I do not blame you for not wedding. I hear married women can become very tedious as flying.”

Harry looked at the woman in front of him and sighed dramatically. “And I thought you were almost perfect.”

Hermione frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“How could you say that about flying?” He asked her.

“Perhaps, you have heard of the word ‘opinion’, my lord?” She retorted plainly.

“Forgive me, but with you as an exception, the women I have talked to have no complaints about it.”

“They must have been married then, or perhaps they have nothing to do other than sew and drink tea all the time that such an aversion is considered exciting.” She countered. Not for one moment did Harry believe she was serious. “Most gentlemen have boldly revealed their skills to me, but I found them quite conceited. Oh, but they do serve such lovely sources of entertainment when they fall on their butts.”

Harry laughed at this.

“As for myself, I have not gotten around to doing it often; much more have fun while I am it.” She admitted.

“So if flying isn’t fun for you, then what is?”

“There’s only one, I guess.”

“And that would be?”

“.”

Harry’s shoulders drooped lamely. “That’s it?”

“Yes, why?”

“If it’s not about flying, or business, then it’s not worth my time.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide in shock. “Why, of all the outrageous…!”

“Opinions, mademoiselle, are on the house tonight…” Harry repeated the reminder she had given a while ago. “And I have just helped myself to one.”

“Touché.” She muttered. There was a thud of a door closed just beyond the balcony’s entrance that had her jumping slightly in surprise. Looking at the entrance, she asked him. “What brought you to this part of the manor, my lord?”

He took such a long time to answer that Hermione thought he had not heard her. She turned to him to repeat her question but he spoke almost immediately as if he were just waiting for her to look before answering. “I got jaded. The dancing and the food were splendid, of course, but I was really tired. Everybody was hauling me up for conversation. I felt the whole place caving in on me and so I stepped out. I wanted a little bit of privacy.”

“Oh.” Hermione murmured. She gathered up her skirts, feeling shy. “I’m sorry.” Not knowing what to say next, she turned around. “I’ll just be going then.”

She had not yet taken more than two steps when his hand gently gripped her own. “First of all, you were here before me. And second,” He turned her towards him, taking hold of her other hand. “I don’t mind the company now.”

Thinking of propriety despite the thrills she was feeling, she gently removed her hands from his and smoothed her skirts. “Well, then, I---I guess I could stay just a little bit longer.”

He smiled.

Tucking strands of loose hair behind her ear, Hermione walked over to the ledge to look at the moon.

“Have you ever felt they’re just using you for something?” She heard him ask after a long moment of awkward silence.

She glanced at him for a split second before turning her head back to the sky. “That is the way the world revolves around us.”

“You mean the society?” Harry asked. When she nodded, he smiled a little. “If that is the world you live in, why aren’t you married?”

“It’s yours, too, you know. But then, I guess, it’s more so for me.” She shrugged, bitterness in her voice could be heard through her tone and Harry couldn’t concentrate on her words because he was trying his best not to place his arms around her. “I grew up learning how to be a proper lady. I was not allowed to be more than I was supposed to be and I grew weary of trying to be perfect. Despite the warnings of my stepmother regarding women and politics, I began to read books and learned so much that I was considered forward and unconventional. My father,” he heard her voice break, “he thought me to be witty and clever, unlike other people. When I made my debut, I neither had the thought nor the desire to be wed.”

“But that does not answer my question.”

“It didn’t?” She sighed. “Then I’ll rephrase it.” A deep breath. “I have no intention of marrying someone who will use me for heirs and then cast me aside to go off to his mistress to whom he would be giving the kind of attention that I could only dream of having.”

“In short,” Harry nodded. “You want to marry for love.”

Hermione grimaced. “Is that so silly to hear?”

“From you, no.” He shook his head. “But that’s not how our world is, bien-aimé.”

She smiled at his endearment. “I know. And that’s why I’m trying my best not to live in it.”

He was devious, but he was not immoral. He was a gentleman, but not quite what the ton preferred. But to her, he was perfect. “I know that you have the same dilemma, my lord.”

“Do I?” Harry gazed into her eyes and found himself answering truthfully. “I grew up in a different place. People didn’t teach me how to live; they taught me how to survive, to depend on no one but myself. I came to and everything changed. My life became different and I’m afraid I would make a mess out of everything, disappoint the people who depend on me. I have no idea how to go about that since all my life, I’ve been self-sufficient.”

“You are not going to make a mess out of anything if you just let somebody take care of the things you can’t. And you…”

“Are you talking about a wife?”

“That, too.” And then she shook her head. “But love, before anything else.””

“I am sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I do not believe in it nor do I want to get entangled in such a thing.”

“Oh.”

“And I have every reason to.”

She looked at him quizzically. He knew she was waiting for those reasons, but Harry didn’t feel like telling her, nor anyone for that matter. The truth was as harsh as his past and he wouldn’t let her get into his head completely. He was beginning to feel something for her in just so short a time. But he was not so unfeeling as to keep her tangled in his own problems.

He looked at her and saw that was gazing up at him. He knew right there and then what he wanted. He forced himself to think that she shouldn’t be treated this way. Her spirit was strong, yes, but her heart was gentle. He didn’t want to break it.

But something in the way she was looking at him, told him that it would if he didn’t do this right. He promised himself that this would be the first and the last. She was too precious to get saddled with him. But she was glorious and no force on earth would have stopped him.

He bent his head closer. Her breath got caught up in her throat. His hand enclosed her waist and drew her even closer. Her hands clutched his arms in support. With his free hand, he smoothed away the hair from her face and gently rubbed her cheeks.

“So soft…”

He said before claiming her mouth with his own. His lips gently sought the sweetness of hers as they slanted back and forth. He could feel a tightening in his gut as he pressed closer and felt her whole body molded against his. He deepened the kiss, the magic in it growing stronger with each second. Her hands, from their passive hold on his arms, slid to his shoulders and entwined behind his neck, her thumbs caressing his nape.

Harry’s hand from its gentle touches on her cheek boldly moved lower but respectfully stayed on her neck, caressing the collar bone just beneath it, each one matching the gentle sweep of his tongue in her mouth.

He heard her moan and lifted his head. Her eyes were dark and her breathing was uneven. He cursed himself for giving in to temptation, but as her lips began to quiver into a smile, he found himself smiling back. He bent his head again, and kissed her just on the corner of her lips and took her in his arms for the second time.

What just happened? Harry asked himself. He just met her a while ago, didn’t he? But he didn’t know what else to do. She was there. And she had some kind of magic around her, not the kind that both of them had, but a different one, one that had him enchanted the moment he saw her.

She trembled and Harry let go of her. No, this was not right. Whatever it was, he shouldn’t have encouraged it with that kiss. Cursing himself for his weakness, he wiped his face with his hand, “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“I’m not asking for one.” She told him, frowning a bit.

“Why is that?”

“Because a kiss is just a kiss.” She told him, stepping back a little to give him room, as if he were the one accosted, not her. “It is not a mark of impropriety to show passion, my lord.”

“Is that you living out of the world, or living in it?”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You do not give into the duty of marriage, but you don’t hesitate to give one of its luxuries to someone whom you’ve just met.”

“Are you saying I’m some kind of doxy?” She didn’t feel pain, just confusion. She could not and would not believe that the man who had kissed her with so much warmth could suddenly treat her with such icy indifference. “What happened?”

As if she had just splashed him with cold water, not that he needed it, with his thoughts as chilly as a winter storm, he snapped back to his senses. He was thinking normally again. He realized what he had just said.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I should have not said that.” He balled his fists tightly. “Even more, I should not have done that.”

She sighed. “Then why did you?”

“If you want me to be honest, I have no idea.” He said.

She smiled, understanding him in ways more than one, and Harry found her much more endearing than he did a moment ago. He felt his instincts telling him to do something about it, but as he had learned one time too many, his instincts were quite stupid. And so was he.

He presented her with his card.

“It’s quite a shame, though.” He heard her say after she took it, not even looking down at the small piece of tag that held all the answers to her questions and a whole lot more.

“What is?”

“That I have kissed a man whose name I do not know.” She laughed slightly.

“Then I, too, find myself equally ashamed, for I have not had the pleasure of hearing your name.”

“Haven’t I?” This time, she giggled hysterically and Harry found himself laughing with her.

“I am quite mortified, my lord, to have forgotten such a detail. But you see, the rules of propriety would see to it that I be introduced to you by a mutual friend. And as you can see, we have no one here but ourselves.”

“Then, it’s a good thing that we are alone for I would not have had the pleasure of your company all this time had it been different.” He said, enjoying himself with their banter. “You mentioned about liking books, bien-aime. Have you read the Rules of Impropriety? I hear it has just been published.”

Hermione’s eyes blinked in helpless fascination. “I have. In fact, it has become a favorite of mine. It is rather a stupid question, but I might as well ask. How many have bought it?”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Two.”

“You would be the other, I presume.” When he nodded, she continued. “And do you remember what it says about introductions?”

“Yes.” He carried in a mysterious tone. “It said that two people from the opposite sex may introduce themselves to each other without a mutual acquaintance if they have the desire to do so.”

“And, do we have that desire?” Hermione asked.

Harry took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “Yes, I believe we do.”

“Then I guess it is most improper for me to introduce myself.” She paused, watching Harry straighten. “My name is…”

“Ms. Carolyn!”

Hermione jerked away from Harry and looked behind her. She came face to face with a plump woman who was standing at the doorway, her body blocking some light.

“What?”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, standing there, unchaperoned, with a man you do not know.” She charged forward, her stubby finger pointing accusingly at the two of them.

Hermione looked at her helplessly. Whoever this woman was, she had mistaken her for someone else. She found it quite comical to be called somebody she wasn’t. She knew he would not mind, but she belatedly realized that he would. She was not Carolyn, but he did not know that, did he?

“I apologize, madam. I assure you, I did not compromise her in any way.” Harry said, shocked by the forceful duenna that was thrusting her finger in the direction of his eyes and was in danger of hitting them.

“It will be a miracle if you did not. What is this?” The lady had her eyes cast upon Hermione. She took hold of her hand, the one that clutched the card that contained Harry’s name on it. “You gave her your card. That must mean something.” She snorted as she held it up to her eyes.

Harry wondered how she could have read his name in such a dark environment, but she did. And he did not expect her to keep quiet about it at all. And neither did he imagine that she would stagger in his presence.

“Your grace. I was not aware that it had been you, please accept my apology.” She said, scrambling away to give them privacy.

Harry was disgusted. Not with her, though, but with the whole notion. Was he a prince or something? Why did everyone treat him with so much regard and fear?

---

Beside him, Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. She snatched the card from the duenna’s hand and stared in deep shock at the words that unfolded right before her eyes.

Harry James Potter, Duke of Godric’s Hollow.

She had just kissed a duke, and not just any other duke, but the most sought after and wealthiest duke among the ton.

Somehow, she knew she should be thrilled, but she was not. She loathed everything about him right there and then.

“Your grace.” Hermione curtsied.

“I do not see the need for you to do that, my lady.”

“Oh, but I do.” She countered and looked up at him. What he saw there brought coldness into his own. “You are a duke, and propriety beckons me to do so.”

“Carolyn,” He started to say. She was about to correct him, but found every reason not to. It was better that he did not know her, or he might recognize who she really was.

“I fear that I must now return inside. My duenna is obviously displeased with me.” She said.

“But you do not have one. You told me.”

“That was nothing. I was just pretending that I didn’t have one.”

“She does not seem to mind, though.” Harry said, his amusement returning. But she didn’t find anything amusing at all. At least, not anymore.

“It’s because of you, your grace.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “So now, will you stay?”

“No.” She shook her head. “My absence is probably questioned as of this moment. I should go back.”

Harry sighed, not finding anything wrong with her and the way she was suddenly trying to set as much space between them as possible. She was just probably unnerved that her chaperone had caught them in an unfavorable situation. “My card is with you, my lady. Please consider my company when you feel you have just about enough dancing for the night.” He bowed.

Hermione barely nodded. She turned around and made a hasty exit. She was walking back, quite rapidly, to the dance hall, when she heard heavy footsteps coming after her. She thought it was Harry, but it was the plump lady that had ruined an enthralling evening for her, yet saved her from a suffering like no other.

“Ms. Carolyn.” The woman had caught up with her. Hermione wondered how much longer it will take for the old lady to realize that her charge was in some other place.

Hermione removed her mask and her hair came unbound. Heavy tresses of it falling over her back and her front. With a pleasant smile plastered on her lips, she faced the woman.

“Oh my goodness! You are not Ms. Carolyn.” The shock that went to her face was comical enough to startle a laugh out of Hermione.

“No, I am not.”

She didn’t even bother apologizing for her intrusion or her mistake. “Such a loss. I thought our Ms. Carolyn already had the duke.” She then looked away to search for her missing Carolyn.

Hermione’s heart felt an ache creeping in it as she took in what the woman said. The comment about having Harry in their grasp was such pitiful evidence that he was being treated as some kind of fawn in the marriage mart.

But her pity was not enough to diminish the hatred that she felt for him.

For all the wrong reasons, she thought him deserving to have such treatment. She quickly sauntered inside the dance hall. After a few minutes, she summoned for her coachman and left the party, wishing she had never accepted the Seymour’s invitation, never stepped out into the balcony, and never gave in to the hunger she had seen in the eyes of the Duke of Godric’s Hollow.

---

Seated behind his desk, Harry was drinking whiskey, thinking about the woman he met. Back in the ’s Ball, he had gone back in the dance hall to be present just in case she was to accept his offer to accompany her home.

But he could not find her.

And he knew that she had made sure he didn’t. And he found out why the moment he had stepped away from the statue he had been skulking on. Carolyn’s duenna approached him with an apology, explaining that she had mistaken the woman he was with for her charge who had been wearing almost the same costume.

He wondered how she could have mistaken her for Carolyn, but successfully read his name on his card. But that was nothing compared to the confusion he had been mixed up with as he recalled that she---meaning the one he talked to---played the part of Carolyn, pretending she did have a duenna, when in fact, she didn't. Yet, she had told the truth before the lady had interfered.

Before she knew who he was...

As soon as he realized that her only reason was she did not want anything to do with him, Harry felt a certain loss. But he didn’t give in to the disappointment.

She had done the right thing, he assured himself. She saved herself away from him. Her hopes were better cast upon someone else who could do something about them.

Now, as he took the last sip of his drink, he was certain that the feeling in his gut was not because of his liquor.

This was different...and it had him believing he would do well to let her go.

Or perhaps, it was just telling him he would see her again.

He chuckled humorlessly.

And if he were to choose which would happen…

He was afraid he would choose the latter…

---

A/N:

Hey, guys…so sorry it took more than a month to update. I have been busy with school. It’s our second semester and oh boy do we have some projects to make! Already, we need to plan for and make 3...can you believe it…3 term papers and all to be passed next year…anyway, that’s college. So…please bear with me… hope you enjoy this one as much as I had fun writing it.