A/N: Sorry guys, but finals and a Christmas trip home really took a toll on me. It's a miracle I have not gotten sick! I hope this chapter makes up for the wait, once again. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas.
I am sorry to see that a lot of you have a problem with Fleur's character. She just wants attention, since she never knew her mother and being the illegitimate child, she is never looked at twice in Sparta, so Troy is the chance to shine under her sister's shadow, so to speak. Cassandra would not pay attention to her because she becomes important only if Hermione dies. Hermione is the heir, Fleur the spare, so to speak. Remember, Troy thinks she is the legitimate daughter of Helen and is unaware that she is Harry's cousin.
On another note, I am sorry for the mistakes on the last chapter. I revised that one twice, this one three times, but I never pick up everything as I am so close to it, so I apologize once again. Enjoy and please do not forget to review. Love you guys!
Chapter 10: Brush
Oliver closed his chamber's door, passing his hand through his face as he prepared for breakfast, heading down the castle's spacious hallway, his mind awake and working relentlessly.
What had happened last night?
"You pressed lips with Hermione's sister," his mind told him. But it had been more that that.
His skin still shivered as he remembered how Fleur's kiss had aroused his body, how her slim figure toppled against his embrace. It had felt so incredibly good…
Oliver mentally hit himself. He could not be thinking like that. What would his parents say?
He scoffed. He was the sole heir to the throne of Ithaca. Penelope and Odysseus would let him have whatever he wanted, whenever, and however he wanted it. But did he really want to risk a relationship with Helen's youngest daughter? She was more unpredictable than Hermione was. And that was saying something, as Hermione's personality had always been as bizarre and uncommon as a ship sailing through the Bermuda Triangle: Poseidon's residence. Just what made him think that he could risk a relationship with Fleur and make it work?
Yet, why was he thinking about this to begin with? There was nothing between them, nor would there ever be as far as he was concerned.
"Oliver!"
He jumped to find Fleur out of her room in a baby pink gown. He had not even realized that he had not moved much since he had closed his bedchamber's door and now he was just beside Fleur's bedchamber, two feet from his own.
"Uh…hello." He could not help but stammer.
"Accompany me for breakfast? Having breakfast, are you not?"
"I suppose," he responded, his appetite already gone. For some reason, he found that he was dreading the day that awaited him.
****
"I…uh…how, oh crap." Hermione could not find her voice. It was bad enough that she had slept in a room that had not been assigned to her during her stay, let alone that Harry was watching her upon his bed, from which she had not even bothered to get up. Where was diplomacy when she needed it?
"You fell asleep and I did not want to wake you. I slept in one of my other chambers," he stated, seeing her puzzled, almost terrified face.
"You did not have to-" Her voice was a mere whisper. He could have woken her up. She was sure that she would not have minded in the least. Anything would have been better than her present awkward situation.
"It was pretty late when I finished talking. I was not going to have you out on the hallway by yourself at such an hour."
"Well…thank you." She managed to smile thinly as their gazes locked, Harry looking intently at her.
"I… better go then."
She stood up from bed in a flash and passed him, heading for the door without even fixing her hair, which by then was probably a curl fest.
****
Hermione spent most of her day inside her room, taking a peek at the books that she had borrowed from Harry's bedroom. Cassandra spent her day solving problems, or rather yelling at the people of Troy, and Harry spent a quiet day swimming at the lake.
His mind still dwelled on the image of Hermione sleeping on his bed. The sight had been so tempting that he actually had to fight the urge of throwing himself on top of her and make love…
Snap out of it!
She was Helen's daughter and he would never attempt to pursue her. No. That was out of the question, as it might result in another disaster for Troy. Besides, as far as he knew, it was just an infatuation.
"Yes, just that," he told himself.
However, that statement proved untrue as late afternoon came.
****
Harry walked to his rooms and enjoyed a warm bath after the distracting coolness of the lake. As his mind went over scattered thoughts, he suddenly remembered that letter he was determined to write to his godfather a couple of nights ago.
"Before Hermione interrupted," his mind reminded him. And he found himself thinking about the beautiful princess once more.
Harry splattered water all over his face as he withdrew his mind from the previous thoughts. He got out of the tub and put a cloth around his waist. He was going to finish the letter before dinner.
He took his quill and dipped it in ink only to…
"What the…?"
He sighed in anger. It seemed that the door had conveniently programmed itself to knock just when he was in the middle of something important. And it effectively did interrupt him from finishing the task at hand.
"Hermione." Her name escaped his lips automatically as soon as he opened the door.
"I apologize, is this a bad time?" she asked, lowering her head before her cheeks grew slightly warm.
Harry followed her gaze and suddenly became aware that the only coverage that his body had was a black cloth.
"Oh! I apologize. Come on in. I will be a minute, let me just-"
"I just came to return your books!" Her voice trailed to the bathroom after his rushed figure closed the door.
When his response did not reach her ears, she decided to go ahead and put the volumes on their respective shelves. It was the least she could do when he had offered them to her so disinterested.
She went to the armoire's corner and began accommodating tomes carefully in alphabetical order.
Suddenly, she felt Harry's embrace behind her as a hand directed hers to the right shelf in which the book at hand was supposed to go.
"That goes there," Harry whispered in her ear and her eyes closed in response to the feeling of his breath tingling against her skin, only to open wide once she realized he had backed away, and mind you, once she realized what she was doing. Her body immediately turned around to face the prince of Troy.
Big mistake. Her slim body just collapsed against his embrace. He had not put much distance between them and Hermione had not realized it in time to avoid the awkward situation.
She looked up at him, unable to find her voice as she put her hands on his chest to maintain what little distance she could.
That being a lost case, she lowered her head and focused on his green Trojan attire.
"I returned them all," she whispered suddenly. He barely heard.
"Wow, you read them all?" His breath prickled her skin once more and the knot on her throat became more perceptive.
"Just the ones I t…took. T…thanks."
"Do you want the rest?"
"You would-"She dared to look at his face, as it was rude to talk to a person without looking at his face, unless you were a servant. Her mouth closed automatically as she noticed the intense gaze upon his emerald eyes. She could even inhale his scent at their closed proximity.
All it took was a look into those irresistible chestnut eyes and Harry suddenly found himself leaning towards her.
His hand found her waist and held it softly as his lips came in contact with hers.
It started as a hesitant brush, but he could not resist the softness of her mouth and opened his mouth over hers.
His lips moved hesitantly slow over hers, until he realised that Hermione was not responding, but she had not pulled away either.
He tore his mouth away to find Hermione staring right at him, her body absolutely still, her expression puzzled and he could swear that her eyes were beginning to water.
Harry's mind was racing a million miles a minute. The last thing he wanted was to scare Hermione away over a spur of the moment gesture. What could he say? What could he do?
"Hermione, I apologize, did I h-?" He had to know what he had done wrong, although he was pretty sure that the gesture itself had been more than inappropriate. Hermione however, did not let him finish.
"I have to go. " She stormed out of the room.
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