Chapter Six: A King's Demand
They made camp just inside the borders of Hufflepuff, stopping only once midday where Hermione slipped away to feed the baby. Harry once again fought down the urge to talk to her, there would be a time and a place. He felt a bit left out, Ron, her cousin, kept her occupied with news of the family and he didn't feel it was his place to interrupt.
Hermione sat back as Jason and a few of the Slytherin knights set her tent, so graciously donated by the True King. Hermione looked over at Harry, so different from the last time she saw him but still the same. He stood with Ronald and Neville overseeing the progress of their camp, so in command of everything, so confident in his men. He had grown into his title as a king. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up at her and she rewarded him with a small smile.
The tent was large enough for beds for Hermione and Minerva and a cradle for James. Rugs lined the floor of it to keep out the coldness from the ground. Ron was playing with James who was laughing and gurgling.
"I'm sorry I missed your wedding," Hermione said quietly. Ron was hiding behind his hands then reappearing to James' delight. He looked up at her, a dark look fell across his face.
"Yeah, I know you couldn't come."
She went to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I meant it Ron. I would've loved to come but…it was…"
"He wouldn't let you come," Ron finished for her and got to his feet. "I know, Hermione," he repeated. She opened her mouth to say something but he held up a hand to stop her. "Why, Hermione?" he asked, grabbing her hand. "Why did you marry that bastard?"
"I had to, Ron," she said.
"No, he forced you into it!" he whispered harshly.
"You don't understand."
"You're right, I don't," he muttered. He sat back down in front of James, who had taken his thumb in his chubby little fist. There was something so familiar about the child but he brushed it off as looking like his cousin.
"The frustrating thing is," he sighed heavily, "if you only waited a few weeks more, if you held him off long enough to wait…you could've been queen of Gryffindor." He looked up at her as he said this but was shocked to see the hardened look on his cousin's face.
"Ron, you must never repeat that again," she said fiercely. "The wrong ears could hear."
"So what?" he replied. "He was a king all along, Hermione. Why didn't you marry him? You loved him and he loves you!"
"Ronald!" Hermione hissed. She made a move to silence him with her hand but he knocked it away.
"You belong together!"
She looked at him stonily. "Harry and I can never be. I married Draco, the Slytherin king is my husband," she said sternly.
"A greedy husband who coerced you into marriage so he could have Ravenclaw under his thumb," Hermione looked away and Ron began to raise his voice. "A greedy king who made a pact with the devil himself! A greedy king who couldn't wait to take you to the marriage bed! And you willingly parted your legs for him to give him an heir to the throne!"
They heard the sound of the blade being drawn but before Ron could turn his head, he felt the cold steel pressed against his neck.
"Jason!" Hermione gasped.
Jason's voice was cool and even. "The penalty is death for a loose tongue against the queen."
"Call off your dog," Ron said through clenched teeth.
Hermione put a hand gently on Jason's arm and he lowered his sword. "He was only speaking the truth," she said in a quiet voice to Jason. And for a brief second, Ron saw a flash of sadness in his cousin's eyes but it was quickly replaced by a stony look. "Let us go, Jason," she said. "The babe is in good hands."
The two of them turned and left the tent, Ron followed to the flap and watched them. He watched as Jason effortlessly lifted Hermione onto her horse. He left his spot and walked back to the cradle and sat down. He wondered what had happened to Hermione, the carefree girl she had once been who shared all her secrets with him. The girl who fell in love with a rider, risked everything for his love only to betray him in the end to marry a king? That girl was now replaced with a woman who held deep secrets, the cheery disposition was iced over and whatever love she had for her husband was tainted by the lover she had taken before the marriage bed could even be warmed…or so people said. And so did the hefty ransom on Jason's head.
A shadow fell across the floor and Ron looked up to see Harry standing at the entrance of the tent.
"Where's Hermione?" he asked, his eyes on the cradle.
"Out with her lover," Ron muttered without thinking, he instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry," he said hastily but Harry didn't seem to notice. He nodded absently as he watched James wriggle in his cradle.
Harry shook his head. "Right, um, Neville wanted to speak with you. He's waiting for you on the other side of the camp."
Ron rose to his feet to leave but then he hesitated. "Perhaps, I summon for McGonagall," he said.
"No, go ahead and go. I'll watch him," Harry waived his friend away but Ron held his ground. "What?" Harry asked him.
He shifted uncomfortably as if he didn't want to say what he was about to say. "I…I think it would be best if I stayed."
"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Harry, your adversary's only son and heir in your care makes me a little nervous. He can't help his father but his mother is still my cousin."
Harry looked genuinely hurt. "Ron, I wouldn't dare harm this child."
Ron felt foolish and flushed to the roots of his hair. "Of course! I was just…I…uh, I'll be back." He hastily made his way out but Harry stopped him one more time.
"What's his name?" Harry asked, his green eyes were bright.
"Huh? Oh, James," Ron answered. "His name is James Edward." A strange expression passed over his friend's face. It suddenly dawned on him that James had green eyes and so did Harry. "He, uh, he likes it when you hide behind your hands then reappear." He offered then left the tent.
Finally!
He had waited so long for the opportunity to be with his son. He looked down at the infant who looked back at him with bright trusting eyes.
Green eyes.
Harry chuckled to himself. No wonder Hermione wouldn't let anyone near the child, it only took one close look to see that there was no sign of Draco in him. He also had a deeper understanding of why she fled Slytherin, Draco would have discovered the truth.
Harry hid behind his hands then peeked out from behind them, making James squirm and smile. He repeated this action a few more times happy to make the child smile.
"Do you know who I am, James?" he asked softly. James blinked up at him. "I'm your father."
James cooed at him and reached out with a tiny hand. Harry offered a finger. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he whispered. "My name is Harry."
An odd urge came over him, driven by instinct and he reached down and carefully lifted James out of his cradle and held him snugly in his arms. Feeling his son's warm little body close to his struck a chord deep within him and it frightened him how strongly he felt the bond with his child. He would cut off his own limbs rather than see his son suffer, he would gladly give up his own life to save his.
Feeling content and safe in his father's arms, James gave a great yawn, declaring that he would now rest. Harry watched him close his eyes slowly, his perfect tiny dark fluttered closed, his perfect little mouth gave a slight smile as he dreamed whatever pleasant little dreams babies had. Harry wondered if his own father had felt like this for him. He probably did, he gave his life for him. And Harry knew at that moment, that if Voldemort himself came after his son he would gladly do the same thing to save his son.
"Ron, you can…" Hermione came into the tent then stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. Harry could see the sudden fear in her eyes, hell, he could smell it.
"Tie the flaps together, Hermione. We need to talk," he whispered softly.
She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with a sharp look. She obediently complied and turned to tie the flaps to the entrance to the tent together. Harry gently placed a sleeping James back in the cradle. He then stood up to face her. She opened her mouth to speak but Harry held up his hand.
"I will ask the questions," he said. "The only time you will speak is to give the answers." Hermione nodded. "Well, lets just get down to it. He's mine, I know he is, do you deny it?"
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You know why."
He reached her in two strides, his finger pointing accusingly at her. "Don't play coy with me," he snarled. "You could've left Malfoy, we could've raised our son together!"
"And then what, Harry? Have the False King at our heels, live with the constant fear of his life?"
"But you would have Draco believe that he was his?! You would've let Draco raise my son?"
"I thought it was best at the time," she defended herself.
"Best?!" Harry whispered fiercely.
"Harry, I had to disguise him as Draco's son! The False King wouldn't have paid him any attention! His life wouldn't be threatened!"
"Then, why did you flee?" he snarled. Hermione looked away. "Couldn't keep a glamour charm on him, could you?" he answered his own question.
"Minerva was going to take him to a small village in the southern part of Hufflepuff," she said. "Your lands are safe and she would raise him until his life was no longer threatened. Jason was to escort us and give us safe passage but you intercepted us."
Harry scoffed and walked away from her. "My own son would grow up right under my nose, in my own lands," he shook his head.
"Harry, I'm so sorry," her voice shook with the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "I was only trying to do what was best."
"Did you think it was best to go through your pregnancy alone? Did you think it was best to have him raised by that arrogant prat? Did you think it was best to hide him from his own true father?" Harry fired his questions at her, trying to hurt her so he would feel better but it was only making him feel worse. Hermione was crumbling under his assault and he couldn't stop himself. "Tell me Hermione, is this whole story an excuse to hide the disappointment in who his father is?"
Hermione's heart broke. "I called out for you in the birth! I desperately wanted you by my side but I knew that you couldn't be. I married Draco to protect you! To protect the product of our love. I would rather die than see our child hunted down by the False King! But I left Draco because I realized I didn't want our son growing up thinking that foul man was his father. I fled here because maybe somewhere deep down I was desperately hoping you would catch me. And that you would take one look at him and see that he is your son." Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Harry had to fight to swallow the lump in his own throat. "But what use would it do?" Hermione sank to the soft rugs. "Yes, he is your son, Harry. Conceived the night we bound ourselves together. But the truth of it is, that he's your bastard and he can't inherit your throne. You're the True King. You will marry a young lady and make her your Queen and she will bear you your true sons. Oh, I've been such a fool!"
Harry went to her, sank to the floor and cradled her head in his hands. He brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "Hermione," he whispered softly, "don't you know that there can only be one queen for me?"
He bent down and kissed her lips softly, tasting the salt of her tears, feeling their wetness on her cheeks. She opened up to him, clutching him to her as they deepened the kiss. He had not forgotten the way she tasted and he reveled in this moment. She had not forgotten either, the softness of his mouth in contrast to the roughness of his stubble against her chin.
He lowered her on the rugs, feeling the soft curves of her body beneath him. Hermione had almost forgotten what this desire felt like, how long had it been since her body had been awakened like this? Her hands wandered over him, feeling the evidence of his arousal for her. He pressed himself against her but he felt her flinch. Abruptly he stopped.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she breathed but he could see that she was lying. "Harry…stop…no."
He had moved off of her and lifted her skirts, brushing away her fighting hands until they were bunched to her thighs. He looked at her.
"Did he do this to you?" he demanded.
The inside of her thighs held the evidence of bruises that were fading. He placed his hand gently on one set and was dismayed to see that they matched where his fingertips rested. She pulled down her skirts and hastily scrambled away from him.
"He can be a little rough," she said quietly. "I used to struggle but I stopped when I found that it only aroused him further."
Harry muttered a curse. He was dead. Draco was a dead man.
"I would never treat you like this," he said softly but determinedly.
"I know, Harry. I remember you were a gentle lover," she said.
He went to her again, undoing the ties on her dress. "Then let me remind you of just how gentle a lover I can be," he whispered as he pulled the dress down over her shoulders, kissing the exposed skin.
She settled back against the rugs, as Harry undressed himself. "We can't have another child," she said as he settled between her thighs. Harry groaned as he entered her, remembering her familiar warmth.
"We won't," he whispered in her ear.
He moved himself within her, trying to be gentle with her but he still felt her flinch once in awhile. But, soon, Hermione didn't care anymore, she wanted him, she hungered for him and their lovemaking grew feverish. She held him close to her and gently bit into his shoulder to suppress the cry of her release. Harry pulled out of her and kissed her hard to suppress his own groan as he released himself into his hand.
The lovers moved to the bed, wrapping themselves in a blanket as it grew dark around them. The tent was softly lit by the large fire and the air was filled with the camfire chatter of the men. Harry pulled Hermione closer to him, kissing her bare shoulder as she slept.
He could hear some of the men singing a song they had heard in the inns they had stayed at. A song about him, Harry, the True King. Just and loyal, honest and fair. He wondered what the men would think of him if they knew of the thoughts that were running through his head now. Thoughts a just and loyal King shouldn't have. Thoughts of murdering another King. Murdering a man just to steal his wife.
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