A/N:
Omigod! I am SO, SO, SO SORRY it took me forever for this update. I really hate myself. I originally thought I'd have this chapter in a jiffy, but I was wrong. Totally wrong!
I only hope that what I wrote would make the wait worth the while!
So, ok…I won't say anything anymore because I think I've kept you waiting long enough.
Happy reading!
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Peter Pettigrew stood in front of his master, quaking unsteadily in his boots, sweat dripping uncomfortably down his back. He was painfully aware of his disheveled clothing, unkempt hair, and undoubtedly foul odor.
Standing here in the worst condition he'd ever been, he could only imagine what his lord was thinking.
He had not the opportunity to rest or change clothes, having been called by Voldemort's messenger immediately after three days' worth of traveling.
Voldemort raised his hand to massage his neck, the sudden movement inciting a flinch from Pettigrew.
"What news have you brought me, Peter?" He asked after an excruciating silence.
Pettigrew had been waiting for this moment, to finally divulge the information he had been called for. Yet reluctance was all he felt now that it was here. For only now did he realize that whatever Voldemort had dispatched him for, the details he possessed were definitely not what he wanted to hear.
"According to my men, my lord," Pettrigrew began hastily when he caught the murderous glare sent his way. "The duke and duchess left the Black Manor right after their wedding."
Shards of broken glass suddenly exploded dangerously close to Peter's face.
"And so they have married."
Careful not to ignite more of his temper, Peter looked up. Recognizing the danger behind those eyes which were glaring at him, his heart skipped a beat.
"According to your men, Wormtail?" Voldemort repeated, wiping wine off his hand. "Old as I am, I still have a memory good enough to remember that I directed you to look into them on your own. Or am I mistaken?"
Pettigrew swallowed convulsively. "You gave me two orders, my lord. I had to choose which one I was to personally handle."
Voldemort threw the rag aside. "I gave those orders because I had the strangest notion you could manage them on your own." And then he sneered. "Perhaps, I was misguided to have trusted you with such crucial tasks."
"But, my lord---"
"Spare me your excuses." Voldemort interrupted. "Perhaps I should just talk to your men, instead of you. They did the work."
"I apologize."
"Stop groveling and tell me the rest of what your men said. What of their journey?"
Pettigrew clutched his hat firmly, hoping to infuse his nerves into the material. "There was not much activity between them. They stopped in an inn a few miles away from Bertshire and left the next day for Godric's Hollow."
Riddle tapped his fingers idly on his armrest.
Peter was sweating greatly now, even more so than before, the liquid uncomfortable and salty as they trickled down his lips. He had no idea what his master was waiting to hear.
"They made a final stop at Bertshire before continuing their journey." He added as an afterthought.
"Bertshire?"
"Yes, my lord." Pettigrew drew a deep breath now that Riddle was looking at him with curiosity rather than animosity. "They did not stay long, however. The duke and duchess dismounted their carriage for no more than five minutes."
Voldemort snarled. "Stop saying `duke' and `duchess!' It offends me that such grand titles now belong to filths who do not know the first thing about being privileged!"
"Beg pardon, my lord."
Voldemort waved his hand for Pettigrew to continue.
Snatching once more the opportunity to please, Peter persisted hurriedly. "The stop at Bertshire was minor. They simply escorted somebody, before making their way to Godric's Hollow."
"You did not mention they were traveling with somebody else." Voldemort interrupted. "Who was he?"
"He was unimportant. A man Harry Potter met in the inn. Apparently, he was a traveler who needed a ride to Bertshire."
"Did your men find out who this traveler was?"
Peter's scrunched face earned him a frown from Voldemort.
"Your excuses are unnecessary, Wormtail. The fault lies on me, for having trusted you to do the deed."
Peter shook his head and took an abrupt stepped forward. "They did not find out who he was, my lord. But they did say the duchess," Pettigrew flinched at his inadvertent use of the title, "Lady Granger was quite friendly with him. Lord Potter also called him `Averley'."
This caught Voldemort's attention. "Averley, you say?"
"Yes, my lord."
"I see." Riddle looked thoughtful. "What of the other task I instructed you to do? What happened?"
"It is as you expected, my lord."
The Slytherin lord was quite for a moment.
And then.
"Wormtail," Voldemort suddenly said.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I want you to deliver a message to Adam Kerrington."
Adam Kerrington?
"May I be so bold enough as to inquire who he is, my lord?" Pettigrew asked, his anxiety over now that his master had something else on his mind.
Voldemort leaned back on his chair and swiveled it around.
"The future of this estate."
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Half an hour later, Pettigrew walked down the decapitating steps of Slytherin Lair with renewed determination. After his disastrous visit, he was now hell bent on getting this new task right. If he gave this letter without hitch to the Heir of Slytherin, his master will no longer remember his blunder.
Unknown to Pettigrew, however, that as he mounted his horse and rode into the darkness, his deficiency was the last thing on Voldemort's mind.
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"Averley." Voldemort drawled out from the alcove above. "William Averley."
He lifted the heavy curtains aside in time to see Pettigrew's hefty form disappearing into the haze. He let the curtains fall limply back into place and clenched his fists.
"What are you planning to do?"
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Harry Potter jolted awake from his sleep, as the closed-carriage he was riding in stopped unexpectedly and rather callously.
Clearing his throat, he looked over on his right to ensure that his wife's rest had not been disturbed as his were. Satisfied and convinced that his shoulder indeed made a more than acceptable pillow; Harry carefully reached up to tap the roof of the carriage.
A couple of seconds later, the carriage door opened beside him, revealing Emett who stood quietly, staring up at his confused look.
"What is it?" He barked impatiently.
"Er," His coachman blinked, wondering why he was suddenly the recipient of Harry's frown. "We have arrived, your grace."
"Have we?"
"Yes."
Harry looked through the open door of his carriage and registered the front of his townhouse.
"Is something the matter, your grace?"
Harry shifted his gaze to his coachman. "No. I merely did not expect us to arrive early."
With a curt nod of dismissal to Emett, Harry turned to his side and nudged his wife awake. Unlike him, Hermione was not at all surprised that they had already reached their destination.
"Emett must have the stomach flu, Harry." She kidded as they entered the house, nodding graciously at the footman who opened the door. "I've never ridden in a carriage that seemed to fly rather than run."
They had been like this since they left Godric's Hollow. Exchanging, banters here and there and even going over some petty but enjoyable arguments, Harry liked to think they were slowly growing comfortable around each other.
Of course, that final letter from her father helped quite a bit.
It made light their situation.
Who would have thought that even after all these years, the arrangement had still taken place? It was quite a surprise, that betrothal, but not really significant. After all, all's well that ended well. Broken engagement or not, they were already married anyway.
Harry smiled at Hermione fondly, a reply to her quip forming in his lips. But a sudden greeting from the foyer prevented him saying it aloud.
"Good afternoon, your grace."
Harry turned. "Ah, Newbury." He smiled and spread his hands. "Come forth and meet my wife."
Newbury stepped forward awkwardly, his mind still reeling from confusion as to whether it had been really for him, that smile of his employer.
Harry frowned when his butler did not immediately do what he was told. Hermione, on the other hand, knew the reason for his bewilderment, having heard the reason from her maids. She gave him a small smile. "Good afternoon, Newbury."
"Your grace." The butler acknowledged with a bow. "It is an honor to be in your presence."
"I am not the queen, Newbury." Hermione laughed modestly. "But thank you for nonetheless."
When greetings from the rest of the staff had been dispensed with, Harry insisted that Hermione take a nap in her quarters so she could get some rest, an order at which Hermione laughed, saying that she had had enough rest in the carriage to last her the entire day.
When Harry asked her what she'd like to do instead, her suggestion of a tour around the house earned her a scoff from him. In a laughing voice, Harry said her suggestion really meant an exploration that would lead her to his library.
Even though Hermione had given him a look, she did not deny anything. Harry said nothing more. As soon as she was done changing her gown, he wasted not a single second of their time and immediately led her to his library.
One look at her face told him all he needed to know.
Laughing, he shook his head. "I'll have Emett prepare the carriage again."
----------------------------------------------------
Hermione wandered aimlessly around the bookstore, deciding on which would best complete her purchase for the day. She had already bought loads of books, much to the delight of the store owner, enough to fill that pathetic excuse of a library Harry had in his townhouse, but she seemed to have no control over herself.
She wanted more.
Glancing through the glass window, at the ducal carriage parked beside the busy street, Hermione suppressed a smile.
She slyly wondered whether he will last a minute more.
It was not her idea that he stayed in the carriage, so he should not berate her for taking her time.
Seriously, the man had issues when it came to socializing!
Just the thought of dealing with the crowd in the store had him ignoring her request to accompany her inside. Hermione briefly imagined what he might be doing to amuse himself.
Shoving the thought aside, she continued to pace upon her selections. Too preoccupied in her decisions, it took her a while to realize that the subject of the buzzing noise inside the store was the same person inside her head.
"He is back, Mrs. Burns." The excited tone in the young voice had Hermione turning to listen despite its unethical tendency.
"Who is, Lady Hannah?" Came the sound of a low, but decidedly female voice from behind her.
Hermione suppressed a smile at the disapproval in the woman's tone.
There was a sound of a book being brought down with force. "When have I ever mentioned somebody not worth my time? And anyway, you do know I have been waiting for his return since he left, don't you?"
Hermione's brow shot up at the reproof of this debutante. She casually shifted her body so she could be able to see the two females through her peripheral vision.
It was easy to distinguish who was who.
Mrs. Burns was a plump, matronly lady, with short, but thick brown hair. She was carrying herself regally, her shoulders thrown back, her chin jutted out. Hannah was the petite and beautiful young woman standing next to her, her expression as that of a child feasting her eyes on her Christmas gifts.
"Ah" was all Mrs. Burns said. "Itching to take a look? Go, if you must."
Too excited to show the slightest bit of modesty, Hannah rushed to the window and peered outside, knocking Hermione out of the way in the process.
"I beg your pardon." Hermione mumbled after the impact.
There was only silence from the lady she collided with, and then. "This is wonderful, Mrs. Burns!"
Curious now, Hermione turned her attention to the direction the two ladies were busy ogling in.
It figures.
Why was she not surprised that they were ogling at the ducal carriage?
"Do you think he will be attending the Reynolds' ball tonight?"
"I do not know." Mrs. Burns gave an unladylike scoff. "But what good will it cause if he attends? He will just stand there and talk to no one except the gentlemen. He has not the reputation of being friendly."
"He is not unfriendly." Cried out a very indignant Hannah, turning for a second to her chaperone before shifting her attention back to the carriage as if any minute now, Harry would just spring out of it.
"And how do you know that?"
"His mistresses, of course."
There was a loud thud on the floor on which the book Hermione had been holding fell. Startled on the word `mistress,' Hermione had forgotten she was not supposed to react. She had dropped it without thinking.
As she bent to pick it up, she noticed something.
`Why is my heart beating so fast?'
This was absurd.
She knew Harry had mistresses before they were married. Heard it over grapevine and reprimanded him for it, even. Maybe she was just disconcerted to hear it now as his wife.
Yes.
That was it.
She was just looking at it in a married point of view.
Trying to slow the furious rhythm of her heart, Hermione took a deep breath only to feel their curious gaze at her. She continued to pretend she was searching for some books.
Then one of them walked past her.
Thankfully they were still within earshot.
"You are hardly of age to know such things." Mrs. Burns wagged a finger at her charge. Then she said in a low voice. "I have heard, of course. Why do you think I disapprove of that man? His friendliness is too direct! I shall be careful with him, if I were you."
"Oh, pish posh." Hannah shook her head.
"Do not belittle the matter." Mrs. Burns berated, her face darkening. "He is hardly known for being noble, despite what his title as Duke and Keeper of Gryffindor entails! Do not, for one second, believe he would spare innocents! That man has no scruples!"
`Oh yes, he has!'
"I do not believe he means to do it, Mrs. Burns." Disagreed Lady Hannah, her voice obviously dreamy. "Perhaps, he is just looking for the right woman."
Hermione nearly choked and controlled the urge to roll her eyes at the sentimentality of the chit. `Really.'
"Being wed to that man is one more thing you can just keep dreaming about. He shall never take a wife."
`Too late.' Hermione couldn't help but feel a burst of satisfaction at that. `He already has.'
"How do you know that for certain?"
"He is a rake!"
`Yes, but reformed rakes make the best husbands.'
"Perhaps, Mrs. Burns. But think of the position I shall hold once I marry him. Duchess---and Lady Keeper!"
Hermione's fists clenched at her sides. `MY husband is not some price to be won!'
"The very idea of becoming Harry Potter's wife is upsetting!"
`No, it is not.' But Hermione couldn't help but contradict herself. `Well, perhaps a little bit.'
"Why is that?"
Mrs. Burns puffed. "If I were to be his wife, I would not feel comfortable having a husband whose reputation with women is as dark as a cold winter night. He is not one to be faithful, trust me. Who knows what he might do once I look away?"
Hermione froze. `What?'
Hannah mirrored Hermione's thoughts.
"Men like him do not change overnight," Mrs. Burns said. "They may take a wife, yes, but their carnal intuitions do not change. They can never refrain from straying, especially when their marriage is not based on love. Why do you think society gets away with that? It's because it is rare to find couples who marry because of affections! Men do it, women do it. It is a circumstance better left alone than dealt with."
Although slightly shaken by this, Hannah took a deep breath, keeping her resolve. "Then I shall have to be a very good wife to him, so he would not have any other direction in which to look but mine."
Mrs. Burns only shook her head. "Enough of this, Lady Hannah. Do you not have an appointment with your modiste this afternoon?"
At the mention of her garments, Hannah turned even more enthusiastic. "Oh! That is right. Thank you for reminding me, Mrs. Burns. She is bringing the gown I shall wear tonight. Would you care to witness my fitting?"
Mrs. Burns scrunched up her face. "No. I have had enough witnessing to last me a lifetime. I do not have a say in your choice of attire at any rate. I will just have to wait before we leave to see your gown."
The sound of the bell chiming above a door being opened snapped Hermione out of her eavesdropping state. Only then did she realize that Hannah and Mrs. Burns had left. Walking over to where they had been standing, she felt a deep burden on her shoulders.
"A love match, huh?" Hermione echoed without thought, absentmindedly fingering the spine of a book.
Theirs was not, that was certain.
Things would have turned out differently for her and Harry, had the Potters manage to avoid the carriage accident on that fateful night twenty-four years ago. Their betrothal contract would have been signed, then and they would have been introduced much, much earlier.
Friendship, perhaps even love, might have budded out of it.
Now, even though one might think fate had worked its magic on them, their marriage was only considered as one out of convenience.
Harry had merely saved her reputation. If it were not for her impulsive nature, they would have left that house party with no more than a memory of a chaste kiss.
Thinking about it now, he had not said a word about it since then, but that did not mean he was the least bit happy he had taken home a wife.
Did he consider her a burden?
Did he blame her for his lost bachelorhood?
It seemed that he had been enjoying it more than he would ever admit.
This should not have mattered, that he may not want to be with her---in more ways than just physically.
But it definitely did.
For a woman who no more than mild affection for her husband, this should not even be an issue.
But why did she feel threatened?
Was it because of pride?
Or…
She shuddered…
Love?
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Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched Hermione stock on his bookshelf, next to his "piteous" ones, her recently acquired book collection. It has been an hour since they had returned to his---their---townhouse, but it seemed as if her `oohing' and `aahing' were far from over.
That simple look of delight on her face had him feeling as if he had championed a dragon. She had been silent during their ride home, barely listening to his complaints on having to wait for a full hour in the stuffy carriage, which were good-natured teasing, of course.
But his attempt at light conversation did not work.
The words `leave me alone' might as well have been stamped on her forehead for the lack of interest she showed. If that had not been as clear to him as daylight, he would have pursued his intent to break her mood.
Looking at her now, he could breathe more evenly.
Sighing, he hoped that books were not the only happiness he could give her.
But for now, it was enough.
As she was perusing over her choices for the day, there was a discreet knock on the door that she failed to hear. When it swiveled ajar, Harry saw Newbury standing there, staring at him with an awkward look.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"An invitation has arrived earlier, Your Grace, when you and the duchess were out." Newbury stretched out his arms, holding a simple, yet elegant envelope.
Harry nodded. "Thank you. Is that all?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Pardon me for the intrusion."
Harry shook his head and smiled. "Not to worry, Newbury. We were simply admiring my wife's good taste."
Behind him, Hermione tossed a distracted smile their way.
Newbury, seemingly over his initial shock that Harry Potter was indeed capable of humor, bowed and closed the door.
Harry twirled the envelope in his hands, unsure whether or not to open the thing. It looked to be an invitation to some ball. He had no intention of attending anyway, so he saw no point in wasting conscious effort of opening and then reading it.
"What is that?"
Harry glanced down as if he did not know what she was talking about. "It is merely an invitation."
"From?"
Harry shrugged.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She strode over to Harry's side and took the invitation from him. She scanned over the letters. Her surprise came as abruptly as it was gone. "The Reynolds are having a ball tonight."
She looked up at him, waiting.
"What of it?" Harry asked. "Do you wish to attend?"
"Not particularly." Hermione whispered.
"But generally?"
Hermione bit her lip.
A ball with Harry seemed a bit vexing.
Not so quickly after her depressing mood.
But she did not want to stay home tonight.
She had not the nerve to wait whether Harry would finally ask her to be his wife in the truer sense of the word. Neither did she want to risk seeing him leave, and wonder all night where he would have run off to.
She was a coward, yes.
But it was better than being a martyr.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, I should like to attend."
Harry hesitated, the thought of the inevitable announcement of their marriage during the ball crossing his mind.
The likelihood that his bachelorhood was still believed to be true was great. None had seen him and Hermione since their arrival, except for their servants. Granted that they were more likely to spread the news, he was confident few would believe the tale.
Not a single logical reason existed for him to put off the announcement, though. Society was bound to find out. Besides, who would think anything wrong about it?
"Harry?"
Harry took the envelope from Hermione's hands and tapped it on his hand.
"An hour or so would not hurt, I suppose."
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When the Reynolds hosted a ball, they certainly did it with style.
As the guests were ushered inside, they could not help but remark that each year; the celebration was more lavish than the one that came before it.
The lights were bright, illuminating every single floral and orchestral decoration within the ballroom, which should have been crowded, judging on the number of people who arrived, but was not, because of its grandeur.
Everywhere you looked; there you would lay eyes upon prominent figures of Hogwarts, all from different estates. Decked in their impeccable suits and pantaloons, the Lords of Hogwarts had on their arms, beautiful ladies all dressed in gowns of the latest fashion, their necks sporting shining pearls and sparkling diamonds.
All were smiling and greeting each other pleasantly.
It seemed that for the sake of attending this annual bash, all disparities were set aside.
As Harry and Hermione prepared to be announced just by the entrance to the ballroom, Harry did a quick scan over the sea of faces below. As usual, his bored expression ignited whispers among the crowd, yet the buzzing that reached his ears was up to an unusual level tonight.
The latest adornment on his arm was probably what they were gossiping about.
It was not exactly folktale that he had attended balls escorting different women. At first, it had been a distress to get over. But after a while, the Ton simply grew amused over his desire to change women as a lady would her garments.
Tonight was quite different, however, for the introduction to be made would surely shock everyone within hearing distance.
Hermione's hand on the crook of his elbow tightened as if she knew his concern. He covered it with his own and gazed down at her. His boyish wink elicited a small laugh from her lips, despite her early concern. Freed from anxiety, she lifted her chin just a bit more.
"His Grace, Harry James Potter, and Her Grace, Hermione Jane Potter. The Duke and Duchess of Godric's Hollow!"
It was as if somebody not only turned down the volume of the room, but also had the inkling to put it in mute mode. She was pretty sure a hurricane could have knocked the place over, but every single one of them would remain frozen.
They both realized, of course, what the silence was all about.
To have Gryffindor's Keeper of Estate marry was already news enough to shake the rafters of the building.
But to have him marry Ravenclaw's Keeper of Estate was enough to stir the dead!
Especially when one had been publicly adamant about it, and the other had even moved to another country just to avoid it.
It was somewhat awkward to continue moving when everybody else were like statues, but to do that would only prolong the moment Harry wanted to avoid.
As they descended the winding staircase, Harry whispered teasingly. "Will you smile? They will think me a brute to have my wife appear unhappy."
Hermione subtly shook her head, recovering from her own shock. "That is not necessary, Harry. They will simply think me insane to have married you."
"In that case, shall we go now? We have put up an appearance, have we not?"
"You agreed to stay for an hour. It has been barely two minutes."
"Alas." Harry mocked. "Fifty-eight more minutes left of agony."
Hermione wondered whether their banter had already reached the farthest ear in the room. But of course, it would seem an exaggeration where she to narrate that nobody breathed enough to give the room the least bit sign of life.
After all, the surprise only lasted for a few seconds after their descent, for as soon as they reached the bottom step, people crowded around them to offer their congratulations.
A full hour later, Hermione was exhausted from trying to keep up with the names tossed their way. For formality's sake, their host paraded them around his ballroom; taking care to introduce them to everybody they meet along whichever way he stirred them.
As courtesy demanded it, Hermione played along with Harry, even though they both knew all the people Carter Reynolds invited.
Well, almost.
"My dear duchess, may I introduce to you a very good friend of mine, Lady Miranda Porter, Countess of Migherhall."
Hermione inclined her head to acknowledge the introduction. Beside her, Harry remained standing and aloof, looking above Miranda Migherhall's head.
Odd.
He seemed to be avoiding her gaze.
Then Hermione subtly looked at the other woman. She was surprised, to say the least, that Miranda was not only looking at Harry, but was looking at him with adoration shining in her eyes.
Then it struck her.
Lady Miranda Migherhall had been---or still was---one of Harry's mistresses!
Just then, Hermione wondered just which of the many women they had greeted belonged to his flock. There was no way she would be able to tell, of course, since Harry had acted turned into a block of ice since Carter Reynolds came to greet them.
Did the thought bother her?
Of course!
For reasons that were more than what she was willing to admit…
Beside her, Harry finally noticed something was bothering Hermione.
He gently touched her arm.
He didn't need to say anything because he knew that somehow, with that simple gesture, Hermione understood him.
He wished could say the same for himself, though.
Her answering smile was not able to suffuse any understanding in him.
A few more minutes of introduction passed by before Harry felt the necessity to stop Carter Reynolds. If he continued on like this, they may just reach the point when their host would start steering them towards the people they had already greeted.
"Forgive me, Carter, I see that the Quartet is just about over." His observation quite correct, he seized on the excuse. "I promised my lady duchess the next set for tonight."
An excuse which he had not trouble saying…
"Ah, of course." Carter Reynolds inclined his head. "But please, grant me this last introduction, Your Grace. I am well aware this young lady would be disappointed if I do not do so right away."
Harry bowed his head and sighed inwardly.
"Lord and Lady Potter, may I present to you Lady Cho Diggory."
Hermione gave a start at the name, recognizing the name. And then she looked closely, the familiar face belonging to one of Ravenclaw's few Ladies of Estates.
The last time she'd seen her, Cho had been mourning over the death of her husband, Cedric Diggory, the heir to Hufflepuff Sett. His untimely demise was brought upon by defeat in a battle against Lord Voldemort.
It was to be recalled that the Keeper of Hufflepuff Estate, Lord Miller, had sided with Voldemort for the supremacy over Hogwarts. As next in line, Cedric Diggory made a move that inevitably cost him his life, and the life of other Hufflepuff Lords as well.
Cho had been distraught back then, looking ready to meet death herself.
Hermione barely recognized this regal woman, standing in front of her now. She looked to be even younger…and definitely more beautiful---sparkling beneath the glowing light of the ballroom.
"How do you do?" Hermione inclined her head.
As duchess, she was only required to curtsy to someone of higher rank. Beside her, Harry took Cho's gloved hand and kissed it. As he looked up again, Cho was looking at him with an indecipherable gaze.
"It has been a long time, Your Grace," she said, referring to Hermione. "When did you return to Hogwarts?"
"A little over three months ago." Hermione said friendly. Though she'd never liked the woman herself, courtesy called for it. "I stayed with my friend, Lady Weasley."
Cho smiled slightly. "Have you been to Ravenclaw Keep yet?"
Hermione's answer was a demure shake of her head. "I am afraid I haven't had the time. How about you? Do you visit London just now, my lady?"
"No," Cho opposed. "London is my home now and has been for two years. Ravenclaw Keep is not what it had once been."
Hermione was not certain she heard correctly, because she seemed to have heard malice in Cho's tone. But the point hit her directly, and she felt more ashamed of having run away from her responsibility as Lady Keeper.
"I see" was all she could say.
Sensing the change in disposition, Cho regarded everyone within the circle. "It is good that you accepted Lord Reynolds' invitation for tonight. Was this unexpected announcement of your marriage the purpose of your attendance?"
The question had been directed at Harry.
For some reason, Harry refused to look. He answered her nonetheless. "No. It was purely out of respect for a friend. As it is not in my habit, nor in Lady Hermione's, to flaunt what we have, there are no other grounds. In any case, this marriage would have been found out, whether we intended to keep it a secret or not."
Beside him, Hermione inwardly flinched at how he said `this marriage.' It sounded as if he were simply discussing the next horse race at Tatersall's!
"And you did not?" Cho interrupted her thoughts.
Harry kept his façade, but the steel challenge in his tone warned Hermione of an unspoken dare. "For what reason would we have done that?"
"Perhaps the underlying cause of its haste?"
"Lady Diggory, our wedding was not done out of haste. As for the reason why we did not include the Ton, that is for ours to keep," Harry said, his jaw tightening.
"Very well."
That was it.
No apology from her discourtesy, despite its vulgarity.
Then Cho turned towards Hermione.
Was it really just her, or did Harry move a bit closer?
"Do you dance, Your Grace?"
Hermione humbly inclined her head. "But of course. After all, a gently bred woman hardly forgets her lessons."
Cho's delicate brow lifted as if to say, `You, a gently bred woman?'
Hermione was not the type to sit back and take an insult. That brow raised for all to see was an affront, if she ever saw one. "In fact," she said, smiling brightly, linking her arm through Harry's. "His Grace promised the next set to me."
Cho's eyes shifted swiftly towards him. Hermione felt uneasy at how her eyes changed from challenging to imploring. But it did not decrease the level of disdain in her voice that Hermione was just beginning to realize was there.
"Ah, yes. My Lord Duke is good at making promises," Cho said suggestively. "You would think he was better at keeping them. But alas, nobody is perfect."
Hermione frowned, a question forming on her lips.
But Harry was fast.
"My pride refuses to accept such failing remark. Allow me to prove you wrong, my lady. Save a set for me tonight."
Cho's answering smile told them she won this round.
But Hermione couldn't understand what game they were playing.
Unless…
No.
That was impossible.
Had she not been privy to the suffering Cho underwent over her husband's death, she would have thought about it further. As it was, she could not have forgotten her husband so quickly.
But, as Harry bent over to write his name on Cho's dance card, the pure look of satisfaction on her face told Hermione otherwise.
"Forgive me, my lord, my lady," Harry said as he straightened. "But I mean now to claim my wife for the Waltz."
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Customarily, it was not approved to hold a lady in a close proximity, but as Harry had never thought to follow most of the ton's rules, this one was most assuredly ignored. Fortunately, this one particular dance allowed him such privilege.
"What is the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, savoring the opportunity to hold her close.
Hermione slightly shook her head. "Nothing at all."
Harry only saw the top of her head, for she refused to look up at him.
"As I am not taking that pathetic response, you better come up with a good reason. I know there is something bothering you tonight."
`You are bothering me,' Hermione thought, `you and your bloody collection of mistresses!'
"Why do I have to ask for this?"
"Ask for what?" Harry's grip on her waist tightened. "What strange nonsense is this?"
Hermione shook her head quickly, not realizing she had spoken her thought out loud. "Do not pay heed to my ramblings."
"Hermione," Harry began.
The desperate tone in his voice was her undoing. She then made up her mind. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "Do you know her well?"
For a moment, Hermione thought Harry did look confused. "Who?"
Hermione took her eyes off him to lay them upon the woman she was most bothered with. "Lady Diggory."
She held her breath for his response, praying that he tell her what she wanted to hear.
No…
The truth…
She wanted the truth.
"She is an acquaintance," Harry finally said, following her gaze. Hopefully, no one would notice how they were eyeing the lady in question. "But I do not know her particulars."
Hermione's relief was short-lived.
"She seems to know you."
Harry sighed. "Everybody claims to know me well when they do not."
She was silent for a moment, not knowing what to believe.
She had always been good with her instincts. Her judgment on people may not always be precise, but it had been enough to keep away from trouble. But lately, she realized, her good opinions had been getting poor, especially where Harry was concerned.
Perhaps, this was one of those times.
"She is from Ravenclaw, do you know?"
"Y---no."
"But you do know she is a widow, do you not?"
"I surmised that much."
At least at this, Harry thought, I did not lie.
Hermione nodded. "She was never my friend, but as the Keeper of Ravenclaw Estate, I felt it a duty for me to be with her when Lord Cedric Diggory passed away. I left Ravenclaw soon after his funeral. She has been lonely ever since."
"Oh," Harry whispered, turning to look back at her.
"That is why it came to me as a surprise to see her tonight. Do not get me wrong, it has been five years since his death. But you would think that somebody who loved as much as she did would not get over his death. I wonder what has her looking like this tonight."
"How does she look?" Harry whispered absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on her, suddenly mesmerized by how she looked.
Clad in a gown of lovely primrose lace and silk, she looked good enough to eat.
He had noticed earlier, feasted his eyes upon her, actually. The moment she came down from her chambers, there was nothing he thought to say that could have described how she appeared to him.
And so, he kept silent.
She was lovely, this duchess of his. And her shoulders, creamy-white and bare, how he wanted to cover them with soft, feathery kisses.
Tonight, she was a sight for all to behold.
But only his to claim…
"She looks lovely. Lovelier than anybody in this room." Hermione whispered.
"You are quite wrong on that score, my lady." Harry whispered back, the corner of his lips tilting. "There is someone even more beautiful than she."
"Really?" She asked, turning to look at him. "Where is she?"
Her breath hitched in her throat, seeing her reflection in the depths of his eyes.
"I'm dancing with her."
---------------------------------------------------
Already minutes had passed since the dance had been over, but only now did Hermione realize that Harry's words gave her comfort, over the budding insecurity she had been feeling ever since that afternoon.
The feeling clouded over her judgment, disabling her ability to dwell on the reason why a simple compliment meant so much to her and why she had needed them in the first place.
Excusing herself properly, Hermione left, feeling calm enough to leave Harry with Cho, as their dance is about to start.
She ended up going to the lounge to rest.
Just beside her, the entrance back to the ballroom was wide open.
And for the second time that day, Hermione came upon another conversation, a conversation that she ought to not have heard.
"Did you see how he was looking at her?"
"Why, yes." A voice Hermione recognized all too well as Lady Lavender Brown's answered. "You do not have to tell me how shocking it was, Parvati. I am certain Lady Diggory is not taking this well."
Cho?
Parvati Patil laughed gaily. "That ought to serve her right. To think, she has been dropping rumors that Lord Harry potter would propose to her after his return from the Black Mansion."
"Her pride must be suffering more than her heart. Do you not believe that to be hilarious?"
"Hers might be the only one. Hearts, I believe have been breaking since they stepped into the room. Surely, you can recall that most believe themselves in love with the duke!"
"Most, including you?"
"That may have been true once, Lavender, but I should like to forget that I, too, once wanted to have him." Then a good-natured laugh came. "Did I tell you the time my chaperone believed me to have claimed attention from the duke? I wonder now if the woman mistaken to be me was Lady Hermione Granger."
"Lady Potter now, you mean."
"Why, yes, of course."
Lavender sighed dreamily. "Well, if she was, Parvati, she is very fortunate. To be the Lady Keeper of the highest Estates at Hogwarts, oh, I wonder how she feels about it!"
"But do you not think it a bit strange that they married so suddenly? And no banns were read for it?"
"Well, yes. But does that even matter?"
Parvati was silent for a moment.
"Are you not the least bit curious as to how the story goes? Lord Harry Potter never keeps any of his affairs a secret. Surely, marriage is one that is quite difficult to keep, especially with servants roaming around the place!"
`Affairs? Surely they do not mean his mistresses?'
"There has been talk from some who came back from the Black Mansion, but none were boorish enough to destroy the lady's reputation. Perhaps it is simply a love match. And with all their close friends and family there, it was convenient to marry."
"I feel quite sorry her, do you know?"
Why would you say that? The undignified Hermione wanted to scream out loud.
"Really? How so?"
"Standing there, not knowing that she has faced the duke's mistresses, unaware that half the women here are probably cursing her as of this moment."
Hermione's heartbeat seemed to stop.
`How many were they exactly?'
"How are you certain she does not know?"
"She seems too calm for someone who does."
Lavender huffed out loud. "Surely people understand that he had to choose someone. If they were foolish enough to harbor hopes of becoming the duchess, then they should have been just as wise to expect that their chances were slim." Then Lavender shrugged the thought aside. "I would wager none feel too strongly, of course."
"Well, perchance just one." Parvati murmured, but it was clear enough for Hermione to hear.
Lavender seemed to agree.
"Pity that, if the duchess only knew Lady Diggory is Harry Potter's most devout mistress, perhaps there would be something to watch tonight."
-------------------------------------------------------
There was something in the cold air that night that possessed people to do things they would normally think of first before executing.
Leading a former mistress to a secluded area was one of them.
As Harry closed the door that led to the Reynolds' balcony, he had no other choice but to put the blame of his stupidity on an unknown force.
"Could not wait for a little bit more privacy, Your Grace?" Cho asked as she turned around to watch him.
Far enough from the ballroom to give them the privacy, but close enough to fend off unwanted conclusions, the balcony was still an unsafe location. Below them, guests hovered about. They were in plain view if someone bothered to look up.
"Contrary to what you think, Lady Diggory, I can hardly wait to go back," Harry said. He glanced around uneasily. "But I must speak with you about some things, which are best said here and now."
Cho Chang flashed him a grin, ignoring his remark. She closed her fan. "Your absence was well-marked by many, Harry. I, for one, have been counting the days until your return. These past weeks have been quite---lonely."
Though she was looking at him with the eyes of which gaze invited other men to fight duels just to be the recipient of, it did nothing more than make Harry want to step away. Normally, he would have succumbed to that smoky stare of hers, but as he had said before, circumstances had changed, and so did he.
"Kindly keep your distance, madam." Harry whispered, moving away.
Cho smirked at him. "What is the matter, Harry?" She asked gaily. "Country air must be clouding your senses."
"My senses are working just fine." Harry gritted his teeth. "This is neither the time nor place for us to be having this conversation."
"Perhaps later then?" She smiled at him invitingly. "In your townhouse?"
"I believe it is your senses that are clouded." Harry warned savagely. "I have a wife, or do you not recall?"
"Oh, I recall her." She spat with disdain. "How can I not? You married my superior. That woman who left Ravenclaw without a by-leave! Of all the people you could have married, why her?"
"You are not privy to my personal life. So do not waste your breath asking me questions that are not in your affair."
She laughed haughtily; a dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes. Then she raised a brow, stepping closer to trace the buttons on his shirt with her finger. "You have not told her about me, have you?"
"You are stepping on the bounds of propriety by being so close to me. I do not wish for your reputation to be in tatters more than it already is." Harry took hold of Cho's hand and pushed her gently away. "There is nothing to tell Hermione."
"Oh? Calling her by her name now, are you?" She mocked brightly. "Do my ears deceive me? Pray tell me I am wrong, or do you actually hold your wife in esteem?"
"Again, that is none of your concern!"
Cho placed her forefinger on his lips. "Hush, Harry, love. It is tempting to argue with you, but do you think you can lower your voice a bit? I should think that you do not want to be seen with me," she said, purposefully looking at his lips, the end of her fan, pressed on the edge of her own. "But if you want more privacy, I do not believe anybody would mind either of our absence."
"Yes, I do believe my absence would be minded." Harry muttered, thinking of Hermione, who had now probably noticed his disappearance from the ballroom. "You are free to leave, however."
"Is it not you who asked me to come here? What is it that you want to tell me, then?"
"There would be no more unnecessary privacy between us after tonight," Harry began. "I shall be by the townhouse later to recover my belongings. However, you are free to stay for as long as you want. I do not mind."
"We had an arrangement, Harry." Cho interrupted him. Although her voice was soft, her eyes were glittering precariously.
Harry closed his eyes in frustration. "I do appreciate the loyalty, my lady," Harry placed a little roughly. "But I am married."
"And so?" She asked rather loudly. "Why is that of any substance?"
Again, Harry shot a worried glance below. Cho was not behaving like the well-bred woman she should be. Perhaps, she had been like this before, but he just did not care enough to see.
"Why?" Harry echoed. "Being married is enough reason, do you not think?"
Cho lifted a delicate brow. "On the contrary, your grace, I am much more confused."
Harry pressed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I can't imagine what has you in bewilderment. Is it truly because you do not understand---or you simply do not agree?"
"The latter," she said matter-of-factly. With a toss of her head, she continued. "Marriage is a natural occurrence. It does not mean that just because you have a wife, you should deny yourself the pleasure of other women's company."
"Ah." Harry nodded, understanding her logic. "But I am no common husband. As I am certain I have already said before, I do not agree with most of the customs the Ton have made for themselves to foolishly follow, especially those that are against my principles. Affairs outside of marriage are one of them."
"You did not even believe in marriage! How can you not believe in affairs outside one?" She pointed out. "Surely, you jest with me."
"And what purpose would I have for doing so?"
"Unless you are to tell me you love your wife, I find no other impartial reason for you to discontinue our affair."
The corner of Harry's lips lifted bitterly. "Concern, yes. But love? I doubt it."
She stepped closer, apathetic to what he had just said. "Your conscience shall not be a bother, then."
"No matter what you say, Cho, my decision has already been made." Harry shook his head.
Realizing that he was actually fervent in his decision, Cho abruptly grabbed his hands in frenzy. "Do not do this."
Harry sighed, taking both hands in his and pushing her gently away. "If it is any consolation, I shall provide you the deed to the townhouse. You may keep everything that is within it."
"I do not want your townhouse!"
Harry crossed his arms and leaned back on the railing. "Then what do you want? Ask me anything, and it is yours. But I will no longer provide you the protection you seek."
"I want…" Cho bit her lip and turned around.
"What?"
"I want your name, Harry," she whispered. "And your love."
Harry stared at the back of her, dumbfounded. It was not the first time he'd heard a woman say that to him. But to come from the mouth of Cho Diggory, the lady who had caused more heartaches than he, it was startling enough to render him speechless.
When he found his senses, Cho had already turned to face him. "I had no wish to degrade myself by becoming your mistress whilst you have a wife, but a divorce is out of the question. All I need is a promise that you shall not end our relations. I shan't ask for anything more."
Harry continued to say nothing.
For what was he to say?
It was not her mind talking, it was her heart.
And with it, he had no intention of conversing.
"Harry?"
Harry sighed. "No."
Cho's hand fell limply against her sides. Her head bowed, and her shoulders began to shake. Harry heard her taking deep breaths and gave her the privacy she silently sought. He did not leave, however, merely stayed where he was and waited.
Still perturbed by the sudden change in her character, Harry spoke without good judgment. "If it would make you feel better, I shall arrange for you a new protector."
Cho's head abruptly lifted. Her eyes blazed with anger. "Do you not hear what you say?! How can you utter such words? I am no toy to be passed around after you have had your fun!"
"Do not be a hypocrite by saying that your plea is done merely out of love. You are afraid of losing comfort, madam. And I am giving it to you, to replace my affections."
"I care nothing for your heartless exchange, your grace." She quietly said.
"Do you not understand? I bear you no love! Would you wish it upon yourself, Cho, that I continue our relations, with you loving me and me feeling naught but lust?" Harry shook his head. "My heart is no longer my own, for I have lost it many years ago."
It was Cho's turn to shake her head. "This is about your past, isn't it?"
"Do not speak to me about things of which nature you do not know!" Harry shouted.
And for the first time, Cho was afraid. The man in front of her was different, more savage, and more lethal. It was then, at that moment, that she knew he was utterly serious.
"You feel as if you know me better than I know myself. I may have shared my body with you, but this goes beyond what you feel is under your understanding."
Cho stepped backward, putting as much distance away from him as possible. "You are wrong, my lord. You still have your heart. You are just too selfish to give it. And do you know? I pity your wife."
Harry refused to be swayed, but the word stayed with him no less.
"I doubt she would think the same." He recovered barely a second later. "As she bears me no love either, she would not beseech my heart as you are doing so now."
"Give my sympathy then, if you will. She may have your name and your protection, but it is not always as you say. She will want your love, I assure you." Cho whispered savagely, gathering up her skirts. "The heart is as valuable as a diamond, your grace. If only yours were not as hard."
-----------------------------------------------------------
On the other side of Town, Adam Kerrington could do nothing more but stare at the latest messenger of his grandfather as he stumbled across the room and departed in haste.
In the five minutes that he had stayed, Peter Pettigrew proved not only to be a coward, but an imbecile as well. Adam could only surmise that his grandfather had no more funds to pay for more qualified men, and just opted for loyalty over quality.
A good thing, it was, that he worked alone.
It was not his style to collaborate with so laughable a servant.
He leaned back on his chair, and took a deep breath; the weight of the thing in his hand rendered him unable to focus on anything else. Idly tapping it on the table, he somehow felt hesitant to open it. The burden of what was inside seemed too heavy for his liking.
What would Riddle say if he ignored the message?
He tilted back his head and pinched his nose.
"Lucas."
He said the name out loud.
He had to.
No matter how revolting it was to follow orders from somebody else, he was not doing this for himself. And despite what Riddle thought, Adam was not doing this for him either.
He was doing this for Lucas.
He would do well not to forget it.
Sighing, he opened the letter and read it.
"You know what to do. Do not fail me."
"Bloody git," he muttered, crumpling the paper into a tight ball.
He tossed it aside and stood up. With one last look at the room, he shrugged into his coat and strode out the door.
-------------------------------------------------
There was nothing more disconcerting than a lengthy carriage ride that involved a woman of indecipherable condition and a man with the burden of a lie and a broken engagement.
As Hermione sat next to Harry inside their carriage, quiet as she had been all night, he couldn't help but think that the afternoon's eerie silence was nothing compared to tonight's frigid stillness.
He would have attributed the disposition to exhaustion had it not been for the fact that her treatment started the moment he came back to the ballroom. Though Hermione still looked the same, the laughter in her eyes was gone.
Her mood continued on until she had quietly implored him to call for the carriage. Even after a half hour of riding with her, it appeared that she had no other intention of addressing him.
Harry wondered what could have caused this.
The only reason he could think of seemed quite impossible to him.
"Hermione?"
Her face was turned towards the window, but Harry could see through the vague reflection from the glass that she was awake.
"What ails you?" He asked again, hoping to get any kind of response from her. "Damn it, Hermione!"
At least this outburst caused her to throw him a surprise, albeit challenging, look.
"Why will you not say anything?"
She sighed. "Because I do not have anything to say."
Finding it reasonable, he suggested. "If I talked, would you listen?"
Hermione yawned. "My ears are not in the mood to hear anything right this minute." She closed her mouth and kept them shut after that, the prim line almost sending him over the edge of his seat in annoyance.
Harry shifted in his seat. "You do not have to undergo such juvenile behavior."
"Is it not my right to speak when I wish to speak, to listen when I want to listen?"
"Something is definitely not right with you," Harry said instead.
"I simply do not wish to converse with you. Is that so hard to understand, my lord?" Hermione confessed blandly. "Nothing is wrong with wanting a bit of silence every now and then."
"This is ridiculous!" Harry blurted out, throwing his hands in frustration. "This is not like you to desire such things. Why do you want it now? At least give me an explanation."
She gave him a sharp look. "Well, if you really must know, I rather prefer silence over lies."
Harry's thoughts stopped, his gaze fixed on Hermione.
Lies?
Could she know he lied about not knowing Cho?
"What are you talking about?"
Feigning innocence was the only way to find out whether they were thinking of the same thing. Immediately taking her bait would have put him in an unnecessary spot.
Hermione refused to look at him, annoyance and another kind of feeling bubbling inside her.
What was with his tone?
Why did he have the nerve to sound irritated when it was she who should be more offended?
"You know, don't you?"
Still, she refused to say anything.
Harry resisted the urge to run his hand all over his face.
"Ask me, and I will answer you."
"I already did," Hermione whispered. "I do not have the patience to do so again."
"You are talking in circles, I do not understand you."
"You do not understand? Or do you not just want to admit it freely. And why am I to ask again? Did you not say that I need not do so, for you were my husband?"
"That is not what I meant when I said that," he warned in a low voice, irritated by her childish behavior. "If you think otherwise, then forgive me for not fulfilling that particular promise right this minute. I am not perfect, as Lady Diggory had crudely pointed out earlier."
The moment he said her name, Harry knew he'd done the wrong thing.
"Ah, yes." Hermione turned to him with a smile too sweet for his taste. "Now that you have mentioned it, do you know what puzzles me? For somebody you are barely acquainted with, Lady Diggory seems to know enough about your imperfections."
"So you do know the truth."
"What truth?" Hermione said, still in that calm voice.
"Do you not want to hear my explanation, or would you prefer to ignore me for the rest of the evening?"
"If I let you explain, would you tell me the truth?" Hermione challenged, but there was a catch in her voice.
"Now I no longer have your trust?" Harry asked, his expression still aloof. "I understand the punishment. However, I refuse to accept it. My offense is not as massive a deal you seem to think it is."
Hermione jeered at him. "Is it not? Perhaps to lie is not as unpleasant to others as it is to me. But do not forget, my lord, it was I to whom you offended."
"Then what would you have me say at that time?" Harry asked.
"I rather think that an intelligent man like you would know the answer to that. I expected a simple one," Hermione mocked. "After all, I asked a simple question."
"All right. The answer to your question is just as you say. Lady Diggory was simply my mistress." Harry said insultingly. It was a surprise his ears did not flame with the anger he felt for being goaded into impatience. "In fact, she is just one of the many I have, whom, if you must know, you have unknowingly greeted the entire evening."
Hermione glared at Harry in silence, slightly offended by the venom in his voice.
To point out that she had looked stupid in front of the Ton, who probably pitied her now for not knowing, was the last thing she expected from him.
"Is that so?" She asked, hoping to keep a modicum of pride with her. She would not let him know she was affected by anything he did, only his dishonesty. "And the reason for not telling me right away?"
After his outburst, there was nothing more Harry could do but watch Hermione's reaction. He was waiting to see shock on her face, disappointment, or perhaps, sadness.
But to his chagrin, not one of them appeared.
"I did not think it mattered whether you knew about my affairs." Harry shrugged. Two can play at this game, he thought bitterly.
She turned away from him, tracing the edge of the window with her finger as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Why not simply tell the truth? Did you believe it would bother me?"
Harry couldn't make up his mind whether to tell her he now wished it did. Her nonchalant responses evoked strange feelings in him, feelings that made him wish insecurity---perhaps a little bit of jealousy and possessiveness, as well---from her.
The silence that ensued only thickened the tension.
Hermione slowly felt something squeezing her heart. She blinked, for the feeling seemed so intense, proof of it threatened to spill from her eyes.
"What?" She managed to say without her voice breaking, albeit it was soft. "Did you expect me to be sad or angry that you had mistresses? Do not be foolish, Harry. I am not a stranger to the ways of the Ton."
Harry's fists clenched at his sides. And then he too turned his gaze outside, away from her, and away from the. Though he saw everything they passed, his thoughts were far from the sights.
The very idea that Hermione had known he was expecting a violent reaction from her only added to the wounds she had inflicted.
Hearing her now, his affairs merely nothing but a custom of inconvenience for her, annoyance…and something else, replaced his displeasure.
"If that is the case, my dear, I do not see a reason why you are angry." He said in a tight voice.
Beside him, Hermione huffed. "I merely do not appreciate looking like a fool."
He thought her voice was not so calm this time, but he decided otherwise. It might simply be his wishful thinking. "Then I shall endeavor not do so again," he whispered.
He had half the mind to reach out and see for himself why she couldn't face him, but enough of his pride had been shattered by her dejection. The remaining part firmly attached itself into his resolve.
Hermione wanted to open the window so she could breathe more freely, the iciness in Harry's voice forcing much air out of her. A good thing it was, that merely minutes since the hush began, their carriage drew to a smart sop in front of their townhouse.
The footman opened the door, revealing the couple who looked more like strangers to each other than husband and wife. Despite his indifference to her, Harry rose from his seat and descended the carriage, before offering his hand to Hermione.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered softly as she passed by him.
She wanted to say more, but the rest of her words got stuck in her throat.
It seemed Harry had no intention of retiring for the evening yet.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.
His feet on the steps, Harry turned his head to look at her, one corner of his lips lifting into a sardonic smile. "Now wouldn't you like to know?" Not waiting for her answer, he called out to his coachman. "You know where to go, Emett."
Standing next to the open doors of their townhouse, Hermione could do nothing else but watch as the carriage was pulled away from the drive, the soft plops from the horses' hooves, the only sounds heard in the unfathomable air of the night.
Dazed, she entered the house, unmindful that the staff had retired for the night.
Leaning back on the door, she closed her eyes to stop the tears that mirrored this sudden pain in her heart.
It was ridiculous, this thought…
But why did she have the feeling they both lost tonight?
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A/N:
Ok, so it took me more than a month to finish the bloody thing! No excuses, of course. I just have to tell you, there was something wrong with me throughout writing chapter 22. The conversations just do not flow in my head like they used to, so it was a bit hard for me to put together every scene.
I've read the chapter, did some editing, and boy is it long! The longest I've done so far. Some might think that other scenes were unnecessary, but I do say they are, after all, I've planned the story from start to end already. It may seem to be going at a slow pace right now, but you have to admit, a lot happened in this chapter.
If you got bored or something and you think that this is pointless, just bear in mind that I do not write unnecessary things. I may not get down to the heart of the matter right away, but I always have a purpose. I don't like to rush things because the result sucks when I do. Hehehe…
Anyway, just to give you a heads up, this may be the last chapter I'm going to put up in a while…
My family and I are about to move to another place, so the preparation would entail a lot of my time, I sincerely hope that by the time we've settled, I would have enough drafts to continue where I left off. But of course, this is only to keep you from expecting another update soon. But who knows? I just might write when I am doing nothing…
So, until then…thank you for reading. I hope you review!
By the way, I just might rewrite this when I've had sleep. But don't worry. No major changes… =)
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