AN: Sorry for the delay guys! I am still in Europe, so I apologize for the delay, but I had time tonight, so I thought I would do this. Thanks for your amazing reviews. Hope this one has been worth the wait. Thanks to my beta-Stephanie- love you! Amazing editing skills, I say. Enjoy!
Chapter 22: Back to Me
Hermione did not have dinner that night. Apart from not being the least bit hungry, she did not
wish to see anybody at the moment, least of all Harry, so she entertained herself packing.
She sighed with sadness. She never thought she would see the day when she actually had to part back
to Sparta. Well, she supposed she did, but she had blocked the anticipation of that moment out the minute Harry's lips had touched hers. Truth be told, whatever desire she had to go back, which had not been very much to begin with, due to the sole fact that she had to pick just the lesser of two evils, had disappeared the night the Prince of Troy had made her his. Of course, it never did help that she had never called her father's residence home.
It was just that, Menelaus's residence as far as she was concerned. Yes, Menelaus, because the word father was too big for the coward. So, after her mother's untimely death, although she had seen it coming since her return from Troy, she had just resigned to her duties; no other choice had been left for her as the legitimate heir to the throne. But in Troy…that was another story.
In Troy, she had found more than her mother's past. She had found someone worth saving, someone worth dying deep inside for, someone worth all risks, someone worth loving…
Harry…just his name brought great happiness and sadness to her heart at the same time. He had made her life bearable, even fun; her stay pleasant, very pleasant. But he was never hers. Correction, she could never be his. Her father had gone against Helen's last wishes and had betrothed his daughter to one of the worst men imaginable, if that thing could be called a man.
However, her supposed destiny was far more bearable than to see Harry get hurt once more in the process of trying to change it. So she would just have to resign herself again, her happiness for her father's, even though he did not deserve a minute of it.
Suddenly, her breathing grew ragged as her eyes began to water with anger, hurt, wounds that she though had cauterised. But now they were opened once more and bleeding madly; exposed to any kind of betrayal, any kind of hard choice; any kind of unbearable suffering, the kind that shatters your heart slowly with the worst torment imaginable; when your body's still alive when your soul is being slowly ripped apart.
Hermione could not take it anymore. She had to get out-out of this room, of this palace, of whatever object that might trigger painful memories within her mind.
"So, anything you would like to take from Troy before your journey?" Cassandra cooed, while she was entertaining Agamemnon, Ronald, Fleur, Oliver, Penelope, Odysseus, and an unhappy Harry at the dining table.
"I think my niece is quite enough," Agamemnon replied.
"Yes, my wife to be is all I will need for the moment," Ronald agreed.
"Oh, I assure you, there are nicer things in Troy than the Spartan princess," Cassandra stated flatly.
It was a diplomatically inappropriate comment, but as far as she was concerned, it was the truth. She could not wait to see Helen's daughter depart.
"That could be true. But she is all that I am interested in right now," Ron confessed.
"You speak of the princess as if she was some kind of prize," Harry snapped.
He should have stayed quiet, given Agamemnon's threat (although what he had said had been true, he was not afraid of the high king of Mycenae and he could have taken him and finished him off had Hermione not intervened) and the little detail that Troy, no matter how much he was against it, still belonged to Sparta, and Hermione, politically speaking, did not and could not belong to him. Nevertheless, he could not stand people who presumed to treat her like a mere sexual object, especially because she was so much more than that.
"I am sure that she will be more than that on my bed, but-" Ron's affirmation was interrupted when
Harry suddenly stood up.
He could not believe that the future king of Sparta had the nerve to continue with his comment. How disrespectful could he get? All he knew was that, diplomatic propriety aside; he needed to get out if he did not want to kill both guests that night.
"I wish to be excused for the night. My stomach is not well," he said.
"Are you sure it is just your stomach and not some higher or lower point in your body for that matter?"
Cassandra asked in an innocent tone. Harry, however, did not buy it. His aunt wanted to provoke him, fully knowing that no matter how angry he got, he could not do anything about it, at least in the political environment reigning on the dinner table. But Harry's expression remained locked. He was not going to go down the way that Cassandra presumed he would, at least not here.
"Good night," he whispered as he walked out.
Harry sighed in anger. His stomach? More likely his fists were not feeling too well from not getting to punch the son of Achilles' arrogant face. And Hermione was to marry that bastard?
"So she can end up just like her mother. Menelaus really is a dunce," he could not help but snap out once again, if only to himself.
However, no matter how true that statement was, what could he do about it? Apart from killing a few Spartans, which clearly was not an option giving the tense political environment at the moment. Did he really want to start a second Trojan War? For the love of Helen's daughter? It sounded almost poetic if Harry took away the actual danger and the lives of the loved ones that he lost, including his father, on Paris's battle for the love of Helen.
Suddenly, Harry felt too tired to think. Hermione would be leaving tomorrow, end of story, end of
everything, except the heartache that he would probably be feeling for the rest of his life.
"I will get over it." But he was a fool if he thought that he himself would even buy his own words.
Before he knew it, he found himself walking through the outsides of the castle, through the majestic gardens in which the moonlight shone sparkling gleams of silver. He sighed. This was the only place that would relax his mind, if only for a short while.
But if he thought he could relax that night, he was gravely mistaken, for just as he was going to lie down on the damp grass, he heard movements coming from the lake.
"Hermione."
Yes indeed, the princess was floating in the lake, dress and all, during these late hours?
"Hermione?" his voice got louder. He obviously intended for her to hear him.
She gasped in fright as she splattered water all over dried land.
"Harry! What are you doing here?" The words went out of her mouth before she could stop them. Otherwise, she would have realized their foolishness.
He gave a small chuckle, his face boring an amused expression.
"Well, it is my castle."
"Right, sorry." She lowered her head in embarrassment, although not necessarily for her earlier comment.
Frankly, she was surprised that she could still look at him given what they had gone through in the past couple of hours, how she had hurt him.
"But here I was wondering the same thing about you."
"I…needed some time alone," she replied.
"And that includes catching a nasty cold?"
"If it keeps me from returning to Sparta," she squeaked, her lips immediately pursing after she realized the mistake she had made. She would not give Harry hope, although at this point she was not sure about how he felt about her after she had told him the truth and offered herself to her uncle in exchange for his life.
He obviously had thought that she had never loved him; she, unfortunately, had not missed the hurt look on his eyes when she had decided to, for all intents and purposes, exchange her life for his.
But one day, she hoped, he would understand why she did it.
It was not about who would win the fight. She was more than aware that Harry had fine sword skills. He could probably take her uncle, who, truth be told, fought on few occasions, although it was not because he did not have the skills. Agamemnon did focus on leading and in sending other, perhaps according to him, more expendable people to do the fighting for him, but he, being king and all, had also been trained to fight. Her uncle however, was not an honourable fighter, in the sense that he would sneak surprise attacks to ensnare and ultimately overpower his victims. That was how Paris had died. Agamemnon had sneaked up on him with a knife when Harry's uncle had been more vulnerable...when he had been with her mother.
That is why she feared for Harry's life, because she knew that despite Harry's ability, Agamemnon would find a way to make him vulnerable. And she knew that she was the key to that. Therefore, she would not bear to be responsible for hurting Harry, even if it was indirectly, although she supposed she had already done enough damage. Regardless, she still wanted to see him become king, even if Ginny was by his side. Troy needed him after all.
Her statement however, did not go unheard by Harry, who sighed. She did not need to tell him. He wanted her to stay, if only she could...
"Fine. I will get out." Hermione slipped out of the water while Harry's eyes lost themselves in her slender body.
"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione's concerned voice brought him back to reality, but did not prevent her blush when she realized exactly what he was doing.
Harry bent and picked up her cloak, advancing towards her trembling body. He put her dried cloak around her shoulders and rubbed them. He kept telling himself that he did not want her to get sick and it was gentlemanly to offer to help dry a lady off. Truth be told, he ached to touch her again.
Hermione could not help herself and leaned into him, searching for his loving warmth. Harry sighed once more at the feeling of her wet hair tickling his chin.
Almost instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, trying to stop the tremors, half expecting her to pull away, hoping she would not.
Hermione did not pull away. Instead, her arms found their way around his waist as she snuggled into his chest. She could feel his heartbeat increase, and pretty soon, her tremors were not of cold, but of guarded tears threatening to come out. Harry noticed her strained sobs and held her tighter.
"What is the matter Hermione?" he whispered into her ear.
His gentle voice was the last straw which triggered her sobs. Suddenly, they were coming out loud and freely.
"I am sorry Harry! I am so sorry!"
"Shh, for what?" he whispered. He did not want to upset her more than she already was.
He knew what she was trying to apologize for. It surprised him therefore, to discover that he was not mad at her. He did not want her apologies, even though that morning, he thought he deserved them. However, right now, all that he wanted was to not let go of her.
"I am sorry I hurt you! I do not deserve you, I never did! I am sorry!"
Hermione had to make him understand that, despite what she had done, she did indeed love him. That is why she would rather give her life away than to see him get hurt, especially because of her.
"`Hermione, please don't do this."
Harry could not help but kiss her tears away as her sobs came slowly to a halt. He lifted her chin in order to make sure that she was all right. He hated to see her like this.
He looked deeply at her to see that her sobs had slowly subsided. Instead, she was holding her breath, staring intently at his eyes, her glance coming to stop at his lips.
That did it. He could not resist brushing her lips with such passion that scared her.
"Harry, I do not want to hurt you again," Hermione confessed, although through ragged breath. By now, her eyes were clouded with passion.
"I love you Hermione. I want you to be mine tonight, if this is the last change we have," he pleaded, brushing her lips in a demanding kiss.
They had been apart too long and seeing the passion in her eyes earlier was all the encouragement he needed.
Hermione did not have the strength to say no, nor did she want it. She wanted him. Her heart after all, belonged to him.
****
"Oh Harry," she moaned as she found herself settled in her chamber's warm bed; her once wet body now covered in passionate heat. She succumbed to his demands and gentle caresses as in the midst of the night, a love was professed from two hearts that became one once more.
****
"Where-is- SHE?" Ronald's shouts could be heard all through the castle.
"Temper, temper Ronald. What is the matter with your mood?" Agamemnon appeared, calmly drinking a cup of wine.
"I have not seen Hermione anywhere! She is supposed to be here by now! I wanted to leave at dawn," he spat indignantly.
His plans were never delayed for a woman, no matter if she was the heir to the Spartan throne.
"Do calm down Ronald. I will go look for her. You know how slow woman can be when fixing themselves. Just make sure the carriage is ready," Agamemnon commanded as he made his way towards Hermione's chambers.
****
"I love you."
Hermione woke up to these small little words, but they did wonders to her happy beating heart.
"Well, good morning to you too Harry." She let her lips wander to his, planting a breathtaking kiss.
"I love you too," she whispered as she snuggled deeper into his chest. "Mm, I could stay here forever."
"Why don't you?" he whispered, tightening his arms around her. He did not want her to leave. At this point, he did not care if he started another war. If he could help it, Hermione would stay by his side.
She stared at him, her eyes sparkling with such happiness that he had never seen before, nor had he felt it until he had been by her side.
Hermione sighed.
If only she could stay....Harry wanted her! Harry loved her! Despite what had happened and what he had found out about her, he still wanted her beside him. And she would be lying if she said she did not want the same.
But all dreams come to an end. And hers were brought to an abrupt stop the second that the door knocked.
She put her satin lavender sheets around her, in hopes that whoever was knocking would have some sense of courtesy and leave her be once they took notice of the fact that she had not gotten dressed yet.
However, the person who was at the door had never had any sense of decency to begin with.
"Hermione! There you are, as beautiful as always." Agamemnon put on a grin on his arrogant face.
"Oh." Hermione's face changed perceptibly. She should have known and taken the time to dress. After all, the queen would have never bothered to go to her chamber. "Hello uncle. I was just-" She had to try to get him out.
Suffice to say, her attempt was unsuccessful.
"I did not wake you, did I?" His voice was tender, but it held a power deep down which frightened her
to no end.
"Well, no, but I was-"
"Dressing ? I can help you there." Agamemnon passed his hand down her cheek as she turned her
face. "Are you afraid of me?"
"Uncle Agamemnon, I just wish that-"
Hermione supposed she deserved his frankly repugnant offer. She after all, had offered herself to her uncle in exchange for Harry's life. But that did not mean she was expecting it, nor did it mean that she was comfortable with it.
"I will just have to show you that there is nothing to be afraid of then." Agamemnon let his hands wander down until he touched the lavender blanket just below her shoulders.
That was all he was allowed to touch, however.
As soon as Agamemnon's finger touched Hermione's shoulder, his neck found itself in front of the pointy end belonging to the Prince of Troy's sword.
"Take your hands off her or I swear I will slit your throat and I will not stop until I have cut your body in half."
****
"Harry!" Hermione gasped.
Relief and tension both took over her body. She felt so safe with him. However, she was also aware that Agamemnon could hurt him any minute.
Harry took hold of Hermione's arm and gently took her inside the chamber once more, putting a hand in front of her so that she would not move and not be moved; his sword never leaving Agamemnon's neck.
"Do you not you ever give up?" Agamemnon's voice was coated with a sugary sarcastic tone, but his eyes were full of anger.
"Over my dead body," Harry replied.
"Oh? I am willing to take you up on that, Trojan," Agamemnon's voice was no longer sugary; it was dangerously threatening.
Harry's replied was delayed by Hermione's hand, which swiftly landed on his shoulder.
"Harry, please don't-"
"Go get dressed Hermione. I will take care of your uncle," Harry's voice was gentle, but it dictated a command nonetheless.
She picked the first attire she saw and headed inside in a flash to wash up. The faster she got dressed, the faster she could get out and hopefully stop Harry from doing anything foolish.
When Hermione was out of sight, Agamemnon's rage turned on Harry.
"Foolish boy."
"I think not. You see, I have been waiting a long time to teach you the lesson you deserve."
"The only lesson you are going to live to see, if only for a short time anyway, is you on the mud while Hermione goes to Sparta. You do not stand a chance."
"I beg to differ," Harry's voice was cooler than ice.
"You will never have her."
"Oh, but I already have her."
"All right Trojan, if this is the way you want it, then so be it."
"Your terms?"
"Gardens, midday. "
"Harry no!" Hermione's voice pierced the Trojan prince's ears, but he was not going to back away. Especially since this fight would determine Hermione's future.
"So be it." Harry replied, ignoring Hermione's plea. He was sure that she would understand after this
was over.
"Settled then." Agamemnon closed the door.
"Harry w-" Hermione tried to argue with him, but Harry just brushed her lips and made his way out before she could argue with him.
Hermione sighed as a tremble escaped her body. This scene was frighteningly familiar, having read it more than once in her mother's diary. She went out running to his chamber. There was no way she was going to let this happen.
-->