Chapter Eight: The Choices We Make
Ronald watched his mother and wife coo over the babe, their high-pitched voices grating irritatingly in his head as they talk gibberish. James did not seem to mind in the least, he laughed and gurgled in their arms.
Baby James.
Baby James with beautiful green eyes.
Very familiar green eyes and he wondered why no one else could see this. Perhaps they did and politely made no comment on it. It was very obvious whose eyes they looked like, obvious even to a Slytherin King? So obvious that it would make the Queen flee with her child. He knew his cousin and the True King were in love with each other, that they belonged together but now he wondered just how far their love had taken them.
His cousin was rumored to already have been plucked before the marriage bed and that Jason was accused of this. Now he wondered if there was someone before Jason, a very certain someone.
This made him angry.
If Harry had taken his cousin to bed, why oh why, did he allow her to marry that Slytherin? Did she consent because she was with child and needed a father?
"Ronald?" his wife's concerned voice broke through his thoughts and he looked up at her. His face must have expressed the anger he was feeling.
"Forgive me," he grumbled as he got out of the chair he was sitting in. "I'll see you at the evening feast."
He made his way across the village to the Great Hall, its grey towers rising above it. The dogs barked in the courtyard as he walked briskly, ignoring the calls of the other knights. He found Harry parrying with Neville, laughing good-naturedly.
"Hello Ron!" He called out cheerfully to him. "How is your lovely family…today." Harry's warm greeting faded at the look on his friend's face.
"May I speak to you in private?" Ron asked him.
"Of course," Harry replied. He motioned to Neville that he would leave and walked back into the Great Hall, leading Ron to one of the smaller rooms off to the side. "What is it?" he asked when he shut the door.
Ron paced around the room, rubbing his jaw irritatingly. "He's yours, isn't he?" he asked quietly.
Harry blinked. "What are you talking about?" Harry said in a low and dangerous voice.
Ron stopped pacing and looked directly at him. "I'm no fool and neither is the Slytherin King," he said. "She fled because the boy isn't his, he's yours." Harry said nothing and placed his hands on the back of a chair.
Ron continued. "Dammit, Harry, you bedded her! You bedded her and for what? So she can flee her snake of a husband with a bastard in her arms?"
Harry's grip on the back of the chair tightened and he flung it across the room. "That's NOT how it happened!" he roared. He reached Ron in two strides and shoved him against the wall.
"That's exactly what happened!" Ron countered. "You could've married her!"
"It was her decision to marry that…that," Harry was becoming flustered.
"You could've stopped it! We could've ridden back that night!"
Harry released Ron. "And then what? Voldemort would've murdered her."
"Malfoy will kill her when he finds out that she has given him a bastard son," Ron said seriously.
Harry stepped away and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Stop calling him that."
"It's what he is Harry," Ron said patiently. "What did you think was going to happen? Voldemort will kill him when he finds out. You can't put him on the throne." He shook his head sadly. "You can't have Hermione. You two made sure that you could never be together when she married the Slytherin King."
Harry sighed. "She did it for me."
Ron placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "He will send for her and she'll have no choice but to return. She can't take James and she will have to make her excuses. But it won't matter, he will want an heir to his throne just as you would want one. Sacrifice or not, she will have to give him a son."
"That's enough, Ron."
The men abruptly turned to find Hermione in the doorway, her cold gaze fell upon the men. She glided into the room, the silver crown gleamed atop her head.
"Leave us," she said quietly.
Ron gave a glance to Harry who nodded then took his leave of the room, for the first time in his life, fearing his cousin.
Hermione and Harry looked at each other for a long time, neither of them speaking.
"How much did you hear?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"Enough to know that there is some truth in what he says, even if it was said a bit bluntly."
He sighed. "I really wonder if we made the right choices. Not a day goes by that I don't regret not riding to Slytherin to take you away that night. You freed me, I should've freed you."
She walked up to him and brushed her fingers lightly over his hair. "You need Slytherin to defeat Voldemort, you know you do and I am the one to convince my husband of that."
"Stop calling him that," Harry turned away from her.
"Harry…"
"NO!" he turned angrily toward her. "I will never, never call him that and you cannot expect me to accept it. In my eyes and heart you do not belong to him, you belong with me. You bound yourself to me," his voice was full of anguish and grief. "Don't you feel it? The feeling of being lost, of being incomplete?"
"Of course I do."
"I'm going to ask this of you only because taking action against you would only push you further from me," Harry began. "Stay."
She sighed. "You know I can't."
"Then let James stay, let me see my son grow," he pleaded. "Make the excuse that he should stay with family, with Molly, Luna, Ginny and Ron."
"Harry…"
He reached her and held her close to him, cradling her head in his hands. "Let me keep something of you if I can't have you," he whispered, kissing her lips. He pressed her close to him, softening her will. He gently lifted her crown off of her head.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered sadly.
He backed her against the heavy wooden door, reaching around her and setting its lock in place. He kissed her passionately, his hands caressing her breasts over dress, listening to her erratic breathing. He lifted her skirts so he could wrap her thighs around his waist, pressing his hardness against her, letting her feel his passion for her.
He carried her to the table in the middle of the room and set her upon it. She lay down as Harry climbed on top of her.
"Promise me," he whispered when he entered her. Hermione already knew her answer before he even asked it of her. She arched her back as he filled her, pleasantly stretching her.
"Yes," she whispered as she grasped him. "Yes."
And he made love to her, slow and passionate. Kissing the salty sweat of her skin, pushing the tendrils that clung to her forehead off of her face. And for the first time, Harry willingly and knowingly broke a promise he had made to Hermione. He held her hands above her head as he spilled his seed inside her. Willing and silently praying to whatever merciful gods out there that it would quicken within her.
She would not give the Slytherin King an heir.
~*~
Harry's illusion that Malfoy would not reach out and ruin his little fanstasy was shattered that very evening at the feast. He presided at his table, laughing at the tales his knights spoke of. Dumbledore and Sirius sat on either side of him, his true love only one seat away laughing and smiling.
Jason entered the room and hastily made his way over to her, bending over to whisper something in her ear. Harry watched as Hermione visibly paled. Whatever news Jason had brought her had not been pleasant and she took a long drink out of her wine goblet as Jason moved across the room.
Harry leaned over Sirius to question Hermione but his attention was quickly taken by a group of knights entering the chamber, Gryffindor flags mixed with the banner of Slytherin.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sirius stood.
"We found them outside of our borders. This one claims to have a message for his Grace," one of the knights spoke up and the group departed briefly to bring forth a very tall and wide knight with a frighteningly scarred face.
"I do have a message for the…King of Gryffindor," he spoke, his voice was rough and matched his demeanor.
"Speak then," Harry said with authority.
"His royal majesty the King of Slytherin, expresses the joy that his wife and child are indeed safe and unharmed. Though the Queen is here on a mission to negotiate peace, His Majesty sent me to ensure the Queen's safety as her escort."
Harry heard Hermione's quiet but derisive sniff. "Very well," he said and gestured to an empty seat across the room. "Please join us for a peaceful dinner."
The knight smirked at him and purposefully strode toward Hermione, taking the empty seat next to her. Hermione stood up abruptly causing the men at the table to do the same.
"Forgive me your Grace," she said to Harry, "but I feel that I do not have an appetite after all." She took her leave of the table, the large knight following her.
She stormed through the halls, Cragen close to her heels. "Please do not bother escorting me to my room, I can guarantee you that I am quite safe in these halls," she said roughly.
"Forgive me my Queen," Cragen's voice was cool. "But I am under strict orders to oversee your safety."
Hermione rolled her eyes, it was not her safety that Draco was concerned with, it was the exclusiveness of the marriage bed. Hermione grinned inwardly at the mental image of what Draco would do if he knew just how often it was violated by the Gryffindor King.
"It is the nature of a dog to obey, I suppose," she said lazily. She opened the door to her chambers but Cragen slammed it shut, Hermione glared up at him.
"Dog or not, I do obey the King," he leaned in close to her. "I will watch every move you make, walk in your shadow, never leave your side. I am loyal to my King and unlike some Knights I will not be swayed by whatever…charms you possess." His eyes wandered over her as he said this last part. Hermione stood her ground.
Cragen opened her door, "Good night, my Queen."
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