Worth Loving

Caroline Delacour

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 27/07/2007
Last Updated: 29/01/2009
Status: completed

In Ancient Greece, where a monarchy still ruled Sparta, lived Hermione, daughter of fair Helen of Troy and her husband Menelaus. Her beauty exceeded all limits, but like her mother had once been, she was not content with her way of life. It changes instantaneously when Menelaus sends her to Troy to choose someone to claim the throne, for the actual queen is not thought capable of ruling because of her sickness. Some call it gift of sight, but the queen calls it a curse, bestowed upon her by the god of the sun when she refused to become his lover. Because of this task, Hermione is obligated to face her past, finally getting to know her half sister and finding out that love is worth all risks when she meets Prince Harry of Troy. H/Hr O/F

Chapters

1. Author's note

2. Prologue

3. A Diplomatic Warning

4. To Troy

5. A Royal Welcome

6. Cold Reception

7. Flaring Dinner

8. A Whole New Light

9. Deal Stroked

10. Beginnings of a Discovery

11. Tell Me A Story

12. Brush

13. Longing

14. Wake Up and Smell Troy

15. An Unpleasant Familiar Face

16. Smile in the Rain

17. Blurt

18. Arrangement

19. The Son of Hector

20. Rude Awakening

21. Facing the Mistake

22. Chapter 20: Pain Stabbed Deep Inside

23. Between a Heart and a Conscience

24. Back to Me

25. For Your Love

26. For honor, for Country, for You

27. Epoilogue

1. Author's note

A/ N:

After much debate, I decided to re-post the story. There were simply too many mistakes on it. I decided to change the name of Harry's aunt to Cassandra, because although she is also known as Alexandra, according to research, she is most commonly known as Cassandra, so thank you to the person who pointed that out. Also, Fleur is Hermione's half-sister, not her stepsister, sorry about that. Fleur is Paris's daughter, to those who were wondering, and Harry is roughly Hermione's age. Helen spent ten years in Troy before it was destroyed, and that was when Hermione was left in Sparta to be raised by her aunt. Hopefully, this clears up a few things and no more mistakes will be made. Please do not hesitate to review.

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2. Prologue

Before you can understand the tale that you are about to hear, you should know what happened in my infancy. I have been told the story over and over, and still hear it many times so that I have now memorized it by heart.

My mother, Helen, daughter of Zeus, married king Menelaus, my father. But apparently, she was obligated to marry, her heart held no love for him. But he did not love her either, but was simply overcome by desire. He even made her pose naked in front of a hundred kings, or so I read.

The entries in her diary are surprising, and reveal a woman who gained happiness only once and had it taken away from her by her own country. My father only began to love her when he was sure that he was not loved in return.

A Trojan owned my mother's heart. Paris was his name, prince of Troy. He loved her like no one ever did, and for that, he paid a high price: his own life. But not before ruining his entire family. His brother, James Hector, was killed by Achilles, who, according to my mother, was a bastard who only wanted glory. His sister, Cassandra, is said to have gone out of her mind. His parents died a painful death. In the end, the whole kingdom of Troy was destroyed and my mother…raped.

All for…love. She just wanted love. Was it too much to ask? Is it not true that love conquers all? To me, it is another myth, just like many others. She died…died of sadness when I was twelve. All for love. She just wanted to love and be loved in return. Such beauty that my father says she had only signed her death warrant.

They say I have that kind of unmatched beauty too. I care not. All I see is that I need my mother with me and I do not have her. Is it my father's fault? I guess I will never know. They tell me only what I just told you, but never a why.

“Your mother was a whore,” I hear the maids say. That I do not see it that way is not their concern.

My mother died for love…or is that just a romantic story? I will never know. How could I? All I know is that they took the most important being of my life away from me, despite my love for her. Then why bother? Why do you dare to love if all that brings is chaos?

The kingdom of Sparta is my inheritance. It is my duty to take care of it. For that, I have made a decision. I will never love.

Hermione

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3. A Diplomatic Warning

Chapter 1: A Diplomatic Warning

“Harry! Harry!” A squeaky voice was heard in the prince of Troy's bed chamber.

“Ugh!” Harry complained with a roll of his eyes. He did not like anyone to interrupt his exercise routine.

Harry was the son of the fallen James Hector, prince of Troy and heir to the Trojan throne. Judging by the reactions he saw every day, he could melt the hearts of women by merely walking by, although he was not sure if it was by his looks or the fact that he was the one who was to inherit the Trojan throne.

Maybe that was why he preferred to stay inside the castle as much as possible, or rather, in his room. There, he contented himself with practicing the fighting techniques that his father had taught him before his death.

“Damn Spartans. Stupid Paris,” he cursed under his breath. Frankly, his late uncle Paris had been responsible for his father's death. What was he thinking running after a married damsel, one that was sure to bring the kingdom of Troy to its doom? All for love…or was it that he wanted to lay with the daughter of Zeus? That was just ludicrous. No dame was worth his brother's life.

“Your highness!” A maid opened the door to his chamber. She could have been beautiful, if he was not accustomed to her being a royal pain in the butt.

He sighed in complaint, finishing his push-ups a few numbers early and wiping his sweat with a linen cloth.

“What do you want?” he asked her, his voice cold.

“Oh, good morning sire,” the maid giggled.

“Hello. Well?”

”What…” The maid lowered her head, her cheeks turning a reddish color.

Harry sighed once more, although this time it was in annoyance as he noticed that he was still half dressed and the maid's eyes were firmly attached to his sweaty chest.

He wiped the sweat away and put on the white shirt that was supposed to go under the armor that had once belonged to his father.

“You were saying?” Harry tried to get it out of her for the third time without success. All he could get out of her were stammers and giggles.

“Are you done there?” A brown-haired man entered Harry's room, much to his relief.

“Your highness.” The maid bowed to the visitor. Oliver was the son of Odysseus and Penelope, king and queen of Ithaca. Dressed in a black tunic covered with a mauve cloak, he approached the maid.

“It is all right. I will look after it from here,” he assured her.

Seeing that she did not retreat her eyesight from Harry, Oliver took her by her arm and closed the door in her face, before turning to his friend.

“So, how has your morning been?” He smiled while Harry gave him a fierce look.

“It was fine until a moment ago,” he replied.

It was not that he was not glad to see Oliver, for he was one of his best friends. But he knew that from Ithaca to Troy stood three days of unpleasant battles with sea winds and that Oliver could not afford the luxury of paying merely friendly visits. Therefore, his visits always had some sort of diplomatic attachment to it.

“Well, I am happy to ruin it for you,” Oliver joked.

“Why have you come?” Harry asked him.

“What? Can I not visit one of my best friends?” Oliver grinned, but Harry refused to rise to the bait.

“And ruin your best ship? I doubt it.”

“It was not my ship, my father's.”

“Regardless, you do not spend three days battling Aeolous for a pleasurable visit,” Harry stated, referring to the Greek god of wind.

. “Fine. Father had a talk with Menelaus a couple of days ago.”

“How grand,” Harry responded with evident sarcasm. Suffice to say that the king of Sparta was not in his list of favorite people.

“Apparently, Menelaus does not think Cassandra is capable of ruling Troy.”

“Nor do I,” Harry snapped. He was quite sick of his aunt's “visions”.

“Really? You do know what that means, do you not, Harry?” Oliver crossed his arms.

“It is not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not interested in the throne, for the thousandth time.”

“It is either you or a Spartan.”

“Bring forth the Spartans then.”

“Knowing Menelaus, he is going to send her all right.”

“Who?”

“His daughter.”

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4. To Troy

Chapter 2: To Troy

Hermione sat down in front of the palace's lake, her favorite spot. She always went there when she wanted to get away, to relax. She would sit down and spend a minimum of three hours reading. She had read countless books, but right now, her mother's journal rested on her arms. She was dressed in a simple sleeveless pearl-colored gown, for it was a typical hot day.

“Hermione! Hermione!” The familiar and annoying voice of Fleur, her half-sister, stirred Hermione from her thoughts.

“Have I not told you to avoid interrupting me when I am here?” She stood up, clearly upset.

Dressed in a violet gown, accompanied by a lilac mantel on top of her shoulders and her silver blonde hair running loosely to her waist, Fleur ran towards her half-sister, a pale pink colored mantel on hand.

“Quick! Put this on!” Fleur threw the mantel around Hermione's shoulders.

“What for?” As far as Hermione was concerned, she was not going anywhere.

“Just put it on,” Fleur said, although it sounded more like a plea.

Hermione sighed in annoyance, but complied with her request. And right on time, her father, Menelaus made an entrance, followed by his brother, Agamemnon, and his brother's wife, Clytemnestra.

“Oh, here she is, Hermione.” Menelaus walked towards his daughter.

“Ah yes, Hermia.” Agamemnon took a step forward, taking Hermione's hand while Fleur took a step back.

“Hermione,” Menelaus's daughter corrected, bowing politely. “Uncle.”

To Hermione's displeasure, Agamemnon looked at her whole body frame before returning to the conversation.

“She looks about ready to ripen, brother,” Agamemnon commented.

As a result, Hermione stepped out of his reach. She hated his visits for this exact same reason. He did not know how to say her name, but he apparently knew how to stare at her without any polite subtlety.

“Yes, well, I believe I have already discussed that with Molly,” Menelaus responded, making Hermione flinch. Was that not Achilles's wife?

“And who is that?” Agamemnon pointed at Fleur.

“That is Fleur,” Menelaus replied coldly.

“Ah yes, the Trojan's daughter. They do grow up fast, do they not?” Agamemnon sneered.

“Make yourself comfortable brother. Have a drink,” Menelaus invited, before turning to look at Hermione. “Can I have a word?”

“Do I have a choice?” Hermione asked vaguely. Menelaus took her arm after instructing Fleur to go back inside the castle's walls.

****

“I believe you must have heard the rumors of Troy,” he commented.

“Perhaps, but I have not paid attention to them as they are not my concern,” Hermione replied.

“Well, they are now. Troy is giving me a hard time, since I believe the queen really has gone out of her mind.”

“And?”

“I have to choose a successor to the throne.”

“Maybe you should let the Trojans decide.”

“Troy is mine.”

“No. It is Agamemnon's and I still believe you should leave it alone. There has been enough blood spilled.”

“Stop talking about that.”

“It is true. Agamemnon left it in ruins, for what? Revenge? Mother is dead. What more do you want?” Hermione whispered furiously. She would never forgive her father for that.

“Stop it!”

“Leave it alone! They deserve some peace!”

“That diary is going to make you sick,” Menelaus stated in disgust.

“Then again, it is the only thing I cherish from my mother.”

“Helen chose it this way.”

“No. You made it this way,” Hermione whispered.

“Say what you like. Troy is still mine.”

“Think as you wish. Your brother controls it just as he controls you. I want nothing to do with it.”

“Well, that is certainly unfortunate, because I am sending you there.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You will go to Troy and put things in order. Choose someone worthy of the throne. If you do not complete the task, you will take the throne yourself.”

“Like hell I will.”

“You forget who I am. I am the king and I can still command you.”

“Why do you not send Agamemnon?”

“You will leave at dawn.” Menelaus took his leave, clearly uninterested in his daughter's opinion.

Hermione just sighed angrily. This day just kept getting better and better.

****

“Can I go?” Fleur sat down at the edge of her half- sister's bed, where Hermione lay staring out the window.

“Go where?” Hermione did not even bother to look at her.

“To Troy?” This time, Hermione did turn her sight towards her blonde companion.

“You do not know what you are asking, Fleur. Troy literally hates us. My mother died there. What came back here was not mother. She was never the same after Troy. You want to see that? You know nothing! You know nothing except the safety of the palace because father cannot stand the mere sight of you.”

She sighed, realizing what she had just said and looked at Fleur, whose face was lowered, covered in tears. She was obviously ashamed enough as it was, being reminded on a daily basis just by the looks of people that she was not the king's daughter. She did not need the real heir to the throne to remind her of that. So Hermione decided to go back to the topic.

“Why do you want to go?”

“Because I do not want to stay! Please Hermione, do not make me stay. Agamemnon is going to stay, I am sure of it. And Achilles's wife is bound to come any day. I will be left in the care of a silly maid and all alone in our room. Please let me go with you. Do you not want some company? I promise I will behave.”

Hermione took a deep breath. Now that she thought about it, she did not want to go alone. She hardly knew Fleur and could barely tolerate her, but regardless, Fleur was not to blame for her father's and mother's mistakes. And to be left alone in a palace mostly crowded by men was simply not pleasant, especially when they looked at women as merely sexual objects.

“All right. You can come.”

“I can? Oh thanks Hermione!” Fleur tried to hug her, but Hermione just gave her a thin smile.

“Go pack your things. We will leave at dawn. Now listen Fleur, one toe out of place and I will make Agamemnon go to Troy and bring you back and I guarantee you will not like that. Are we clear?”

“Certainly. I will pack then. Dawn it is. Thank you again.” Fleur stood up.

“Bye.”

“Sleep well!” Fleur hopped on her own bed.

“Mm-hmm,” Hermione yawned. Her eyes were finally closing when her half-sister decided to bring up yet another subject.

“Hermione?”

“What now?”

“Is it true that you are to marry Achilles's son?”

Hermione fell from her bed in a thud, her tiredness suddenly wiped away.

“What did you say?”

****

“Well, of course! Did Menelaus not tell you?”

“Tell me what, Aunt Clytemnestra?” Hermione asked Agamemnon's wife.

“That you are to marry Ronald, son of Achilles. Your father wants a secure legacy.” Clytemnestra smiled. She had practically raised Hermione after her mother had died.

“No wonder, since he will be the first to die,” Hermione whispered. She was ready to kill him with her bare hands after the two pieces of information she had received in less than 24 hours.

“What was that dear?” Clytemnestra asked, but Hermione was already by her father's throne.

“What are you waiting for?” Menelaus whispered. She was supposed to have left already.

“I though my mother made it very clear on her last note that I would not be engaged to anybody. I would be able to wed freely,” Hermione reminded him.

“Helen did not know anything about politics.”

“She still wrote it.”

“Ah yes, but since she is not in charge of the Spartan throne, I will make the decisions.”

“I will not marry the heir of a bloodthirsty bastard!” Hermione shouted.

“Achilles was a fine man.”

“He was a murderer!”

“The Trojans asked for it!”

“You will not change, will you?” Hermione put a red mantel over her shoulders just as Fleur appeared, dressed in a pale blue gown with a mauve colored mantel over her shoulders.

“Sorry for the delay. I am ready now.” She smiled at Hermione.

“And where is she going?” Menelaus stood up.

“She is going with me,” Hermione answered him coolly.

“Absolutely not!”

“I fail to see the problem. After all, she has always been a bother to you.”

“She still is not-”

“I am taking her. End of story. Saddle the horses!” Hermione commanded as she exited the palace on the journey that would change her life…forever.

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5. A Royal Welcome

Chapter 3: A Royal Welcome

"Are you going somewhere this morning, Harry?" Queen Cassandra asked her nephew.

"It is my hunting day," Harry answered.

"But we will have visitors today."

"Good for them. Give them my regards." Harry put his hunter-green cloak on and proceeded towards the city.

****

"We are here, your highness," the coachman announced to a sleepy Hermione that they had reached the walls of Troy.

"Good. Stop here. We will walk the rest of the way. I do not want to make a scandal," Hermione commanded. Fleur looked at her, horrified, as they stood in front of the Trojan gates.

" But we have to walk miles!"

"Oh Fleur, do not exaggerate. Besides, exercise will do us good." Hermione got down from the carriage, her half-sister behind her. She sighed. She was in for a long day.

The gates of Troy opened and Hermione walked through them, unnoticed. The city was crowded but undeniably beautiful.

"Stay close to me," she ordered Fleur, "You are bound to get lost."

Her half-sister nodded silently, making Hermione turn her head to the back for her answer while still walking.

Suddenly, a gasp escaped her mouth as she tripped over a cloak, her body clashing against a man's embrace.

"I beg you pardon." Hermione straightened herself, although the man still had her by her waist.

"No. It was completely my fault. I should watch where I am going. My apologies." Harry looked up to catch the damsel's gaze.

She had the most beautiful chestnut eyes he had ever seen. Their glances locked for a single second as Hermione stared into Harry's emerald pools.

"Quite all right then. We will continue our way," Fleur announced, taking Hermione's hand.

"Well, where are you headed?" Harry intervened.

"We are on our way to the palace," Fleur answered.

"Well, I am going there myself. I will get my coachman and take you," Harry offered, suddenly forgetting about the hunting trip. After all, as Troy's royalty, he figured he should start being nicer to strangers, even though he had not been nice that morning, but who was counting?

"No, that really is not necessary," Hermione assured the stranger, flinching as Fleur hit her arm. It was clear that her half-sister did not enjoy a good walk every now and then.

"I insist. It is the least I can do." Harry smiled thinly.

****

"Where are you from? I have not seen you here before." Harry chased the stranger's glance from across his seat.

"I am not from around here," Hermione replied.

Before Harry could proceed with his question, which he was sure the damself had avoided, the carriage came to a halt. He got down and then helped Hermione and Fleur step out. Before they knew it, they were entering the palace.

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully, trying to make her way to the throne room, if she could find it.

"You are welcome," Harry answered as he tried to make his way into his room.

He did not get very far however, for a soldier got in his way, making him trip.

"Sorry Paris," he apologized. Harry sighed in anger.

"It is Harry," he corrected.

"It is the same. You both look alike," the soldier scoffed.

"Actually I beg to differ," Hermione cut in, leaving Harry thunderstruck.

"I beg your pardon madam?" the soldier asked.

"Was Paris not light brown haired with mahogany eyes and tanned skin?"

Hermione's description of Paris was quite accurate, leaving even Fleur in a surprised state. Harry was amused. Who was this damsel?

"Hermione?" Oliver's voice echoed through the hall.

"Oliver!" Hermione ran towards him, hugging him and leaving Harry thunderstruck once more. Was it not 'Hermione' the name of Helen's daughter?

****

"So, Menelaus finally sent you?"

"What do you mean, finally? I did not want to come."

"Well, he told father that he would send you here, so I was expecting you." Oliver smiled.

"How very nice of you." Hermione laughed as Fleur came forward and cleared her throat, poking Hermione's shoulder. She clearly wanted an introduction.

"Oh, Oliver, this is Fleur, my half-sister. Fleur, this is Oliver, prince of Ithaca."

"Enchanted." Oliver smiled, kissing Fleur's hand.

"Indeed." Fleur bowed her head politely.

"Could you tell me where to find Prince Harry? From what I understand, he is the sole heir to the throne," Hermione said.

"Certainly. Are you not in luck? Here he is now. Harry, come here!" Oliver called his black-haired friend as Hermione's eyes opened wide.

"What?" From his tone, Oliver could tell that Harry's mood was not the best at the moment. No surprise there, though. His friend had always been cold, even with him.

"This fair lady here requests your presence. Hermione, this is Prince Harry of Troy, Harry, Princess Hermione of Sparta."

Harry took a deep breath as he leaned down to kiss the hand of the daughter of Helen.

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6. Cold Reception

A/N: I hope you enjoy both the updated version and the new chapter. From here on, you get lots of juicy tension! Enjoy and please review!

Chapter 4: Cold Reception

"I am honored, your highness." Harry let go of Hermione's hand.

"No, the honor is mine. I must express how grateful I am towards you for allowing me to be a guest in your palace." Hermione put some distance between them. Things could not apparently get more awkward.

"I am afraid that was the queen's doing, Princess Hermione. She awaits you in the throne-room. Oliver can escort you," Harry suggested, his voice colder. He knew why she was here, so he might as well drop the niceties.

"That will not be necessary, Harry dear."

Hermione turned around to see the queen walking towards her.

Cassandra stood just a few steps from her, inspecting her appearance quietly.

"This is Helen's daughter?" she scoffed.

Hermione sighed. This was no time to lose patience. She should have expected a welcome like this. Quite frankly, she could not blame them. After all her father and uncle had done, it was a wonder she was still alive right now and inside the castle.

"My name is Hermione, your majesty." Hermione bowed politely.

"Mm," Cassandra inspected her again, "The apple does not fall far from the tree, I am sure."

Hermione grimaced. She really did not know if she was supposed to be offended by the statement or not. She supposed she did by the way the queen was looking at her. Was she calling both her and her mother whores?

Before she could say anything however, Fleur stepped forward, clearly not in a good mood. Surely she was going to say something to put the queen in her place. But before her half-sister could express herself, Hermione made her take a step back.

"And who are you?" The queen narrowed her eyes at Fleur. Apparently, she had noticed her earlier gesture.

"This is my sister, Fleur," said Hermione.

It was the first time she had referred to Fleur as her sister instead of her “half-sister,” but she figured that in such a hostile environment as Troy was turning out to be, although she had expected it, they had better chances by sticking together.

"Really? A sister? Well, she looks more like Helen than you do." Cassandra stared at Hermione again. "I do not recall Helen having wavy hair."

"You knew my mother then?" Hermione smiled. As far as she was knew, all the Trojans who had interacted closely with her mother were dead. These were welcomed news indeed.

"Unfortunately yes. I do not know what Paris ever saw in her. Her presence was like a plague. But then again I must admit, Paris was not the intelligent type."

Hermione pursed her lips as hard as she could. It took all her strength not to slap the queen then and there. How dare she? Apparently, Fleur was thinking the same thing, for she took a step towards the queen again.

"Excuse me, your majesty, but I will not tolerate another insult towards my mother, even if we are in your castle," said Fleur.

"I beg your pardon?" Cassandra seemed offended and enraged, daring the blonde princess to give her an excuse to take out her rage on her.

"I said-"

But before Fleur could finish, Oliver took her arm and shifted her to his side. He knew what the queen was capable of and it was not wise to argue with her.

"Your Majesty, the princesses must certainly be tired from the trip. Perhaps we could show them to their quarters?" Oliver smiled diplomatically. However, his smile was replaced by a frown when he discovered that Fleur was holding his hand.

What was she doing? He hardly knew her, for they had been introduced a mere moment ago. Yet, he figured she had to be a little overwhelmed, and if holding his hand made her feel better, he supposed he could keep helping her. She was Hermione's sister after all, and he was sure he would develop a brotherly fondness for her as he had for her sister.

"Oh yes, of course. I imagine that the daughter of Helen does not want puffy eyes for dinner, does she?" Cassandra's tone did not conceal her sarcasm.

By this time, Hermione was enraged with fury. If this woman was not out of the throne yet, she would definitely get her out; now not merely because her father wanted her replaced, but because she wanted her out as well.

"Oliver, would you escort these ladies...no, wait. They are to have separate rooms. Herminia, you go with Harry there," Cassandra commanded.

"Pardon my intrusion your Majesty, my name is Hermione." The Spartan princess was trying her best not to scream.

“It sounds like the same name to me." Cassandra shrugged.

"I was hoping that...I assure you, my sister and I would not mind sharing a room. Less work for your servants," Hermione affirmed.

Frankly, she was scared to death of being alone in a big, old Trojan palace.

"So you can conspire against Troy once more? I will not have it," Cassandra muttered, but it did not go unheard by Hermione, who now had had the last straw.

"Pardon me, your Majesty, but I do not think it is polite to whisper in front of guests-"

"Excuse me Harmonia-"

"Hermione!"

"Whichever! Is this your castle? As long as you are a guest in Troy, you will follow my commands and you and your sister are to have separate bed chambers. Dinner is at 7:00. Do not be late. And for goodness sake, wear decent garments."

* * * *

Before Hermione knew it, she was following the prince of Troy to her chamber, cursing everything around her. Who did that queen think she was? She could be the mistress of the castle, but, like it or not, Troy was still under Spartan command, and it would be up to Hermione to decide the outcome of the country.

She did not want anything to do with the Trojan kingdom, so she resolved to do what was necessary to get Cassandra's heir, prince Harry, on the throne and get out of there faster than a bolt of lightning. After all, this was still her father's situation. She would let him worry about it.

"Princess, here is your room for the duration of your visit," Prince Harry's voice brought her back to reality, and she looked up to see him opening the door for her.

She entered a big, warm room; with wine-colored curtains and a large bed decorated with pearl-colored blankets. The bathroom was beautiful, with a tub made of expensive precious stones, and the armoire was full of Trojan dresses. It was an inviting room indeed. But it did not make her want to stay any longer.

“Remember, dinner is at 7:00 and you can choose any garment you like from the armoire,” said Harry, snapping her from her room evaluation.

“But I brought my own garments.” Hermione turned around and faced him. She had to admit, he was quite a sight.

“But they are Spartan garments. You will not wear them during your stay, queen's orders.”

“She can go to…” Hermione began to curse. But she knew it was useless to fight. She would have it the way she wanted soon. “Fair enough. Thank you.” She managed to smile politely at him, but the gesture was not returned.

“If you need anything, feel free to call and a servant will come to your aid. Until dinner, princess.”

“Oh please, I do not like formalities, call me Hermione,” she suggested in an unnaturally sweet tone.

If this was the heir to the throne, she would have to befriend him, and formalities meant coldness.

“I understand you are the sole heir to the throne, Sire.” She drew closer to him.

“Look, Hermione, I know why you are here,” Harry whispered in a cold tone.

The short distance between their bodies allowed Hermione to feel his hot breath tingling her skin, and she could not help the shiver that escaped her.

“Do you?” She raised her head to look into his eyes.

She wanted to give no hint of fear, no matter how nervous she was about this whole affair.

“Yes. Your father got tired of my aunt's complaints and of looking after Troy, so he sent Helen the Second to find a new puppet to rule Troy, and I am the guinea pig, because I happen to be the only prince left of the royal Trojan line and you do not want to dirty your perfectly taken care of hands with the land that despised your mother. Well, guess what? I am not some pawn. I will not take the throne, so if I were you, I would choose another puppet.” With this said, Harry slammed the door shut.

Hermione sighed, landing face down on her new bed. So much for a pleasant trip.

However, for some reason she had a feeling that the prince was the least of her problems. After all, she was in charge, and she could choose whomever she wanted. Right now, she was more worried about the queen. She did not know how long she could keep her anger to herself. And although she had no idea what to expect from the royal banquet, one thing was certain: much like the prince's behaviour, it would not be pleasant.

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7. Flaring Dinner

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I had to go out of town for a week and could not post before I had to go. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. Please review!

Chapter 5: Flaring Dinner

“Hey.” Fleur smiled at Oliver while coming out of her room, startling him in the process.

She was dressed in midnight blue Trojan apparel with a pale blue mantel draped over her shoulders, her hair combed into a graceful braid.

After almost jumping from the fright, Oliver turned to look at her, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

“Oh, hello.” Oliver smiled back shyly. If there was something his parents had taught him well, it was how to be polite.

“What, were you expecting somebody else?” Fleur snapped. What made her say it, she did not know. After all, she had known the prince for no more than a few hours. One thing she did know however, he was not a bad sight to look at.

“No. I just did not expect you…to come out so abruptly.”

“Oh, can I then assume that you do not like spontaneity? Pity, spontaneity can lead to

more…desirable things.” Fleur smiled once more, though in a more… seductive manner. This was the type of personality that she did not dare show in Sparta, but this was not Sparta.

“Really? Like what?” Oliver stammered. Was Hermione sure that this was indeed her sister? If he did not know any better, he would say she was…no she could not possibly be doing that.

“Mm. You will find out in time, perhaps. Care to escort me to dinner?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, your room is next to mine and I do not like to go to dinner unaccompanied. Plus, I could get to know you better, since you are a friend of my sister's and all-”

That did it. Oliver's tenseness faded away at Fleur's unintentional subtle hint that this had been nothing but friendly conversation.

“Certainly.” He offered his arm to her as they descended the stairs.

****

Harry could not help but focus his eyes on the Spartan princess as she walked into the room.

Hermione was wearing hunter green Trojan attire, his favourite colour, and it looked astoundingly good dangling over the curves of her slender body. Her hair was fastened with a pin, but her curls were loosened over her shoulders, making her face clearly visible. She really was a beauty. But then again, what could he expect from the daughter of Helen? Besides, he had seen his share of pretty girls. One more made no difference.

“Harry, are you all right, dear?” His aunt drifted him away from his thoughts, but her eyes caught everything and as they followed Harry's gaze, she scoffed. “You know, your father used to call her mother, the Goddess from Hell,” she whispered.

“Pardon me?” Harry turned to look at her. But before she could repeat her statement, Hermione took a seat across from the prince, without muttering so much as a `good evening' to him. Instead, she turned to the queen.

“Good evening, your majesty,” she said in a courteous manner, but her voice was cold.

“Nice of you to join us, Herminia.” Alexandra smirked icily.

Hermione simply lifted her wine goblet to her lips. To say she was angry was a clear understatement, but her manners told her that the table was not the best place to settle royal confrontations.

Seconds later, Oliver descended, Fleur beside him.

“Good evening.” He smiled, looking at Hermione, and then at Harry, who both gave weak smiles in return.

Oliver took the liberty to move the chair for Fleur to sit on, but before he could move across the table, she shoved him into the chair next to her, and dinner was brought to the table.

“So tell us, Herminia, what brings you to Troy?” Alexandra asked.

“My name is Hermione, your majesty,” the princess repeated for the thousandth time, “and I am here on my father's command. He feels that you are not capable of ruling Troy anymore.” Hermione was brutally honest, but then again, the queen did not hide her disgust. Why should she attempt to be more diplomatic than necessary.

“Oh, yes. How is your father?” Alexandria pretended to be interested.

“Alive unfortunately,” Hermione murmured. “In good health.” That was the response Alexandria heard.

“Well, the offer has come right on time, I must say. I was looking forward to my retirement.”

“Good. Let me assure you, it will come soon,” Hermione affirmed.

“May I ask who is to take the throne?”

“I was aware that Prince Harry had the right to the throne.” Hermione glanced at the prince. “We will see where things lead. It could be him, or a more qualified candidate if he for any reason should refuse the offer,” she finished, letting Harry know that she was still fully aware of the words he had snapped at her while in her new bedroom.

“Really? Would that be a Spartan?” Alexandra narrowed her eyes at the mere word.

“Actually, your majesty, I am capable of taking the throne; that is what my father wants. But I am keener with the idea of letting someone from your country rule it, if that is all right with you of course.” Hermione offered a cold, sarcastic smile.

“And you think you know how to pick a worthy candidate for the throne? Do me a favour, Hermione”

“Mm, you got my name right.”

“You let me worry about the successor and you book yourself an early trip home, what do you say?”

Hermione was now enraged. But she would not let the queen have her way.

“Your majesty, as much as I would love to do that, I came here with a task, and guess what? I do not intend to leave until I complete it. So, it appears like we will see our faces around your palace for some time to come.” Hermione smiled once more at the queen's displeasured face, and Oliver had to put a hand against his mouth to keep from laughing. “Let us drink to that.” Hermione raised her goblet, “To your health.” Everyone raised their goblet, as was polite, while Hermione took the wine to her lips.

Cassandra however, would not let Hermione have the last word. She leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“This…command of yours, does it imply a test for the future king in the bedroom before he takes the throne, or is that after?”

That got quite the reaction from Helen's daughter, considering she spat all the liquid from her mouth across the table, more specifically, on Harry's face.

Hermione was both speechless and embarrassed. She did not care, at the moment, that the queen had just called her a whore. She found out that she was, curiously, more worried about Harry's reaction to the comment, despite the clear fact that it had been for her ears only.

“Hermione, are you all right?” Oliver inquired as she coughed. Fleur took a linen napkin and handed it to Harry.

“I am fine, just, bad wine,” Hermione answered, standing up. She exited the dining room without even excusing herself or apologizing to the prince. She figured that if she stayed any longer, she might just beat the queen into a bloody pulp.

“She must be feeling ill. I will go and check on her.” Fleur followed her sister, Oliver behind her.

Cassandra smirked, swallowed some water, and looked at her nephew.

“Are you all right? These Spartan girls can be so…unpredictable.”

“Undoubtedly,” Harry whispered as he cleaned up his face.

****

“She is fine. Just a really bad day, I suppose,” Fleur assured Oliver, who escorted her to her bedroom just because his was nearby.

“That is certainly good to hear. Well, good night.” He smiled at her.

“Make sure the bed bugs do not bite?” She looked at him seductively.

“I find it so hard to believe that you and Hermione are sisters. You are so different.” He could not help but observe.

“Would you care to test that theory out?” Fleur drew closer to him. She did not know where this was coming from. Oh, she was the flirty type and she had had her share of suitors despite not being so extroverted in Sparta. But her conscience's remarks did not stop her mind from wondering what having the prince of Ithaca would actually feel like.

“Uh, good night.” Oliver retired to his bedroom in a flash, leaving Fleur to her own naughty thoughts of what she would do with the prince of Ithaca once she had him.

****

Hermione could not sleep. It was just…too much. She always knew coming to Troy would mean facing her mother's past. That was precisely why she had tried to avoid it, but no such luck.

She could not stay in bed any longer, so she opted for a quick walk, deciding that she just needed some air.

The door creaked open and she was out in her nightgown and robe, her wavy hair blowing against the night's wind. They were still Trojan garments, but she had to admit, they were quite comfortable. It was too bad that the atmosphere was not quite as inviting.

It was a cold, but beautiful night. The full moon could be seen above the palace and Hermione could not help but become mesmerised by it, until a cold voice made her shake from fright.

“Roaming the palace halls after dark princess? You really should not.”

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8. A Whole New Light

A/N: Sorry for the delay, again. Some of you seem a little confused since I updated the story. Read the author's note at the beginning of the fic. That should solve them and I am sorry I posted it before all the rewritten chapters. If that does not satisfy your curiosity, feel free to write me once again and I will do my best to answer.

Oh, and Fleur is Paris's daughter, just a question I remember.

Enjoy!! Reviews are always great!

Chapter 6: A Whole New Light

Hermione turned around with a gasp as her eyes toppled with the prince of Troy's emerald green ones. He was seated by a window, polishing his sword. The trail of moonlight illuminated his face features and as it did so, he did not seem so cold anymore.

“You…uh…I did not know…” Hermione could not find her words. Being alone around a foreign palace was bad enough, not to mention the little wine accident earlier.

Harry let out an amused laugh at her puzzled face.

“It is Harry,” he repeated his name. “If we are, as you say, going to be seen our faces for time to come, we might as well drop the formalities.”

“All right, Harry. Listen, I have been meaning to apologise for your little…face splash earlier,” Hermione stuttered. There was something about him that made her body shiver when she was around him. It might have had something to do with the sword he was carrying.

“Forgotten. Now, do you want to tell me what are you doing out of your chambers at these hours?”

“I cannot sleep, happy?” She was getting uncomfortable by the tone of voice he was using. Why was it his business what she was doing?

“I see. You take warm milk before sleeping or something?” He stood up from his spot, giving her a full view of his built body.

“No! I just would like to be alone for a minute if you do not mind.” Hermione snapped, her tone challenging. There was no way she would let him intimidate her.

“Well, actually I do mind, because if Cassandra finds you here, she is going to go berserk,” Harry said matter of factly.

“Fine, I will go then.” Hermione proceeded to walk, but Harry caught her arm.

“Is something wrong? If I did not know any better, I would say you are not comfortable here,” he said, his mind marvelling at how soft her skin felt against his fingertips.

He did not know where the sudden concern from her well being had come from, but he supposed that it was all for the sake of diplomacy. And as if burned, his hand snapped away from her arm.

Hermione however, would not buy it.e

“I thought you had your mind set that I was here looking for another throne puppet.” She did not conceal her sarcasm.

“I still do. Call it curiosity.”

“Well, for your curiosity, your highness, no I am not. I am no more keen with this command than your dear queen is. I never wanted to come here. My father made me. Plus, I thought I was better at diplomacy and royal affairs than him or my uncle. Believe me, I am quickly changing my mind. Good night.”

“You did not want to come here because…were you afraid of dirtying your dress?”

There was more to her than met the eye, and he would find out what was it. If this lady was going to pick a ruler for his country, he had to be sure that she was competent enough to do it.

Never mind that she still have the most beautiful chestnut eyes he had ever seen.

“A word of advice, your highness: do not bicker about matters that you do not know, much less understand. It will save you millions of problems as future king.”

“I will not be-”

“You do not know me and I would rather it stayed that way.”

****

Hermione was up at dawn. She had had a troubled sleep, not to mention she slept in a

strange place as it was. Nevertheless, she got up, washed herself with warm water, and put on Trojan clothes while tying her hair back in a knot. As it was a pretty warm day, she opted for pink attire with a white mantel on top.

Satisfied with her appearance, Hermione exited the guest room. Her stomach was rumbling as she had not had much to eat last night. But there was no way she was going into the kitchen alone.

****

“Fleur, wake up!” Hermione turned and tossed her half-sister.

“Mom?” Fleur moaned sleepily, holding on to the pillow and resuming her slumber.

“Very funny. Get out of bed this instant!”

“Oh, shut up,” Fleur whined.

So Hermione decided to try a different tactic.

“Ooh, are those puffy eyes I see?” Suffice to say, Fleur was out of bed in an instant.

“They are not!” she protested as she heard Hermione laugh. She took a mirror and

glanced at her reflection. No puffiness in sight. “It was not funny!”

“Actually it was. Your face was priceless.”

“What did you do that for?”

“It is time for breakfast.”

“Good for you. Go then and let me sleep.”

“Oh no. You are coming with me.”

After a lot of protest, Fleur finally got out of the bathroom, wearing bright yellow attire with a red mantel, her hair combed straight to her waist.

****

“Good morning Hermione, Fleur.” Oliver smiled at them as they toppled against each other. His room was next to Fleur's, after all.

“Well, my morning has certainly taken a brighter turn.” Fleur smiled seductively in return.

“Good morning Oliver. Did you have a good night?” asked a relieved Hermione. At least Oliver was here.

“Yes, I slept. I see you did not.” He looked at Hermione's tired face.

“I will live after I get some tea in my system.”

“Oh, I was getting breakfast myself. We take it in the royal gardens. Come on.”

****

The royal gardens were surrounded by beautiful flowers, and it was quite an inviting place to have breakfast. It was much better than the dining room, that was for sure.

Oliver took a seat next to Harry while Fleur took a seat next to him. Hermione just seated across Oliver. She did not want the prince to be a splash victim again if the queen decided to open that mouth of hers.

Harry glanced at Hermione and gave her a polite nod. She chose to ignore the gesture, however, and focus on her fruit plate.

Luckily enough, it was a peaceful meal, at least until the queen's mouth sprang open.

“Oh Harmonia, your father sent you your horses. Perhaps it is his way of saying he wants you to go back to Sparta.” She sneered.

But Hermione had her own smart retort today.

“Great, I am in the mood for riding today. Tell me your majesty, which are Troy's better riding spots?” She smiled. The queen would never get an opportunity to put her down once more.

“Pardon me?”

“Well, if I am going to pick a ruler, I need to know what kind of kingdom I am dealing with. A little tour might do me good, do you think not? You would like that, right Fleur?” Hermione looked at her sister.

“I think not. You will get lost,” Cassandra stated.

“Well, come with us then.” Hermione smiled sarcastically. “Nobody knows the kingdom better than you.”

“Plus, you could use some sun on your face,” Fleur whispered.

“Absolutely not! I do not ride! Besides, I got royal affairs to take care of. Harry is a great rider. He can take you.”

Harry glowered as soon as he registered what his aunt had just said. He did not want to ride with Helen's daughters! What was his aunt thinking? He glowered at her again, but the queen's lips spelled a desperate get them out of here plead.”

“Right Harry?” Cassandra asked him aloud, but he knew it more of a command than a simple inquiry.

“Sure,” Harry answered, displaying a grim face when he glanced at Hermione again.

Instinctively, she tightened her mantel against her shoulders.

“We better get going then.” Hermione stood up.

“Oliver, would you care to join us?” Fleur invited him, her mouth displaying another seductive smile.

“What?” Oliver could not help but be a little disappointed at that invitation. He was actually looking forward to some time alone with his arch and arrows.

However, for once, Hermione agreed with her sister whereas Harry would welcome any company at the moment.

“Good idea, come with us,” said Hermione happily.

“Please do,” Harry agreed.

****

Before they knew it, they were at the stable, saddling the horses.

“Nemesis, come on.” Hermione tried to steady her horse, trying unsuccessfully to mount her. Her horse seemed no more fonder of Troy as she was.

“Nice name. What is it for?” Harry petted her horse while he stared into the princess' eyes.

“It is for no real reason. I was just thinking that maybe if I am good, the goddess will grant me a real life and I will not only be the happy medium between my father and his brother and between Troy and Sparta. Maybe she will even answer my questions,” Hermione answered, but her eyes did not meet his.

“About Paris, I presume? Right.” Harry scoffed, taking the liberty of lifting Hermione onto her saddle.

“I could have mounted myself!” she shouted in indignation.

“What, and rip your pretty garment? I think not,” he replied calmly.

“Do not underestimate me Prince Harry, you might be surprised.” Her eyes locked with his, her expression guarded, but challenging.

“Is that right? I am dreading the day that happens then.” He mounted his own mare, taking the lead.

While Harry and Hermione were involved in their own argument, Fleur made Oliver ride in the same horse as her, with the pretext that she did not know how to ride a horse very well. Her sister was too distracted to notice however.

****

They arrived to a beautiful spot by a lake and Harry decided it was time to rest the horses.

Hermione found herself looking through her mother's diary again while Fleur took a dip in the lake. Oliver opted for target practice with his bow and Harry practiced his daily sword routine.

Hermione kept her eyes glued to the diary as she read a passage about Paris for the thousandth time. She was dying to know more about him, the Trojan who had won her mother's heart, something her father never did.

She was not at peace for long however, for suddenly, she felt a sword clash by her side as Harry stood beside her, his arms crossed.

“The horses have rested enough. We need to get going before sun sets,” he said.

“Fine. Give me a minute.”

“What are you reading?” he inquired, although he already suspected the answer.

“That is no concern of yours.”

“You know, you are never going to find the answers you seek out in a book. Paris's personality cannot be found in books or memoirs.”

“I see. Why is that?” Hermione spat.

“Because his own parents did not get a chance to know him, thus your mother knew him even less.”

“I think she knew him quite enough.” Hermione closed the book harshly, her eyes throwing daggers at Harry.

“Really?” Harry chose not to pay attention to her rude gesture. “She was with him for what, seven, ten years at the most? And half of that time, he was not with her. Do you think you would get to know a person over such intermittent short periods of time?”

“She did,” she whispered, her anger flaring.

“Princess, just because she got him in bed does not mean she got to know him. It does not work that way.”

Hermione stood up, anger invading her body, and smoothed her skirt, holding her mom's diary close to her heart. How dare he make such an assumption? He had just called her mother a trollop!

“Are you getting to some kind of a point, Harry? Because I really do not wish to hear about your bed philosophy,” she responded harshly. She feared that if she dared touch the subject of her mother, she might have some explaining to do once back at the castle over Harry's missing body.

“Just that you cannot keep your life centred on a book. There is more to go around.”

“Well, books have worked fine these nineteen years, thank you very much.”

“You are in for a big disappointment.” Harry sneered.

“Hopefully, you will not be around to see it!” She turned on her heel and began walking, but Harry's voice stopped her abruptly.

“They still will not give you the knowledge you seek. Books cannot answer questions of a personal nature.”

“I did not ask for your opinion.” Hermione did not even bother turning back around to look at him, but Harry continued.

“You want facts, right? You want a why. You want to know if your mother's quest was worth it. You want to know if your own trip here is worth it. You are dealing with feelings. You will not find those in a book, I can assure you of that.”

“Well, I am pretty close! Sure I would love to know more, but hell, I hardly even knew my mother, and much less Troy. I never knew Paris, so I guess I will never know if he was truly worth my mother's life.”

“But I did.” Harry leaned against a tree as Hermione finally turned around to look at him, eyes opened wide. “He died when I was ten.”

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9. Deal Stroked

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews! Keep them coming! I know I took a long time, but college started, so you are going to have to be a little patient. But your patience, I hope, will be rewarded. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Deal Stroked

"Fleur," Oliver called her, taking his horse by the reigns and approaching the lake. There were bubbles visible, implying that Hermione's sister was currently underwater. "Fleur!"

The blonde beauty emerged from the crystal pond, leaving Oliver completely breathless. She simplylooked astounding wet.

"You called?" She smiled at him.

"Yes. We are to be leaving soon, so I suggest you get ready before it gets cold," he instructed her.

"Can you hand me that cloth?" Fleur pointed at a silk blanket placed upon a tree branch.

"Of course." Oliver took it, turning around to face her.

His breath hitched as she stepped out of the lake, water dripping off her blue bathing dress.

"Oliver."

"Uh?"

Suffice to say, Fleur's body had provided a momentary distraction.

"Can you uh, hand me my cloth?"

"Oh, I apologize." He stretched out his arm, the cloth wide available for her to take, but she took his arms instead, getting him closer to her so he would put the cloth on her instead of having to take it herself.

Much to her delight, she noticed that the prince of Ithaca had not taken his eyes off her.

"Do you like what you see?" Fleur whispered seductively.

"Uh?" He had been staring at her again. He hit himself mentally as he attempted to put some distance between him and Hermione's sister. Yes, Hermione's sister. That is all she would ever be.

At his puzzled response, Fleur smiled broadly.

"Let me ask you something Oliver, how long before you go back to Ithaca?"

****

"You knew Paris?" Hermione asked, absolutely dumbstruck.

Why had she not thought of that? He was, after all, part of Paris's family, whether he chose to accept it or not. She could tell that talking about Paris made him uncomfortable. That was not her concern at the moment, however.

"I did. He did not quite fit in the palace; he did not like it. He always said that he could play the part of a shepherd far more efficiently than he could play the part of prince," Harry affirmed. "At least that is what he told your mother, or so my father told me." Harry shrugged.

He figured Paris was quite the smooth talker. In his opinion, he would have done anything to get Helen in bed.

"Did he? And why did he not like royalty?" Hermione's eyes sparkled with interest.

"I assume it is the same reason I do not, the superficiality of it all. That is, if he was telling the truth. He was quite unpredictable. But I do not even know why I am telling you this. I' will leave you to your books."

"But-"

"We better leave princess, the sun is setting." Harry walked away, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

She was determined to know more and she would make sure that she had access to such information.

****

"Fleur! What on earth do you think you are doing?" Hermione screamed while Harry did his best not to laugh.

Fleur was very close to Oliver and she was passing a hand through his very tense chest. Harry supposed that she was not as introverted as her brown-haired sister.

"Hermione, how nice to see you. Are you done with your little chat?" Fleur looked at her sister, before shifting her eyes to Harry.

But Hermione was in no mood for her sister's wit.

"What is that supposed to mean? You know what- I care not. Get on your horse!"

"Heavens Herm, I am not a baby. But, as you wish. Oliver, if you please." Fleur looked at the prince of Ithaca as he lifted her into the saddle, swinging up behind her.

"What the..." Hermione could not believe her eyes.

Rest assured that she had been too busy arguing with Harry all the way to their current whereabouts as to worry about where her sister was riding. But she never imagined this. No, this was out of the question.

"Are you going to get in your mare or not?" Fleur raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Hermione crossed her arms.

"I am set." Fleur threw her one of her cocky smiles.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did I not tell you she would be riding with me? Sorry, I must have passed that detail up." Oliver shrugged, making Hermione's anger flare up even more.

"She is?" Hermione shouted the question, but Oliver remained calm and certainly clueless about the current situation.

"Yes. I am aware that she does not know how to ride very well and...well, she said she did not want to put too much weight on your horse. I do not mind, really."

"She does not-I am sorry, what did you say?" Hermione was again dumbstruck.

What kind of game was her sister playing?

"That she cannot ride so-"

"Oh she cannot? Since when?"

"Hermione, would you-" Fleur tried to interrupt.

She did not want her sister to ruin her chances with Oliver, exposing her as a liar. Especially since her only intention had been to get close to Oliver.

"Shut up Fleur or you will be on a horse to Sparta tonight!"

"She can ride?" Oliver was puzzled. She could or she could not ride?

"Of course-"

"Not."

Before Hermione was able to finish, Harry put his hand over her mouth, leaning her backwards into his body. Hermione's embrace tensed up automatically, but Harry did not notice it. Instead, he proceeded with his current conversation.

“That is fine Oliver. She will ride with you. Take the lead. We will shortly follow." Harry smiled at his friend. His smile faded quickly however, as Hermione stomped his foot. "Ouch! Sweet mother of-"

"Hermione, something bothering you?" Oliver asked with concern. Hermione's current face told him that she obviously was not in a good mood, never mind that Harry's hand was covering her mouth.

Harry answered for her though.

"Just the fact that her sister gets to ride accompanied and she does not." He sneered.

Hermione had had enough. She was about to rid herself of Harry's hands and give him a piece of her mind. She did not care if it was in front of her sister or the heir to the throne of Ithaca for that matter. But Harry pressed his arm tighter around her waist, leaning her body completely against his. As a result, Hermione became paralysed. She dared not move against such a compromising position.

"Ah, worry not Hermione. I will take you riding one of these days." Oliver smiled at her, still not saying anything about where Harry's hands were placed.

Harry had to keep from laughing. Had Oliver actually brought that?

"Harry can do that," Fleur pointed out, making Hermione growl, since she could not talk at the moment.

"Are you saying you would like that? Put it into consideration, I will," Harry whispered, acknowledging her angry growl before looking back at Oliver. "Go on, we will trail behind."

Oliver kicked his stallion as he marched into a hard trot. Fleur leaned against his chest as he gripped her firmly by her waist.

****

"You meddle into my matters once more and I will not only stomp your foot! Got that your highness? You do not know my sister, therefore you have no right-"

"You do not either. So she wants to ride with Oliver. She is right, Herms."

"Do not call me that!

"She is no baby. So why do you not let somebody have fun for once and spare us of your little number? If you had told Oliver the truth, according to your point of view, we would still be debating over which steed your sister was to ride, and she probably would not want to ride yours."

"Look, Harry-"

"Princess, shut up. Look at the sky. We are way past curfew. So get on your horse and stop complaining."

Harry lifted Hermione into her saddle again, swinging on his own afterwards. He rode on her back as they made their way back to the palace.

****

Harry decided to skip dinner that night. After his argument with the Spartan princess, he decided he was in no mood to take his aunt's temper tantrums or sarcastic remarks, not to mention Hermione's own mood swings. . He did what he would not do on a normal day. After his bath, he sat down on his writing table and picked a random book.

"What?" he complained when someone knocked on his door, even though he was not focused on his reading.

Oliver came in, bearing a food plate.

"You should eat something." He dumped a plate with meat and fruit next to the book.

"Thank you." Harry did not even look at him.

" What are you reading?" Oliver asked curiously. Harry never read, or at least had not in the years he had known him. And that was a long time.

"I do not know.” Harry shrugged. He did not care about the book after all. " Something about law."

"You are not the reading type Harry. Is something wrong?"

"I am bored," Harry replied.

He figured he had no reason to bring up the real reason to skip dinner, since he could tell Oliver was very fond of Hermione.

"I thought so. How about a round of Quidditch Polo?" Oliver asked eagerly.

Harry sighed with annoyance. Oliver was never too tired to engage in his favourite sport. But he was.

"How about I just go to bed?" Harry proposed. Anything to get out of that game.

"Fair enough. Good night then."

"Mm-mm."

No sooner than Oliver left, another knock disturbed Harry's lack of reading.

"What now?"

The door opened cautiously, revealing a robe dressed Hermione. She had evidently taken her bath just now, for her hair was still damp.

"Can I?" She stood by the door.

"You are already here, are you not? What can I do for you?" He turned his chair to give her his individual attention.

"Tell me about Paris," she pleaded.

"Really? What exactly?"

"Everything. I want to know what it was that my mother loved about him."

"Well, I would not know about that. Are you sure? The story is everything but pretty," Harry admitted.

He had figured that she would come up with a request like this, since he had blurted out that he knew him earlier in the afternoon. But he still thought it was not a good idea.

"Please. I can do something for you in return, anything. Well, except..." Hermione lowered her head.

Harry let out a low laugh.

"Worry not, princess. I am not going to ask you to get in my bed. In fact, I do not want anything from you."

"But-"

"Hold your horses, I will grant your request."

"You will?"

"It is what you came to Troy for in the first place, is it not? Meet me tomorrow afternoon. It will have to be here because Cassandra gets upset whenever she hears about Paris."

"Why?"

"Tomorrow. Until then, princess."

"Thank you."

Harry simply nodded as Hermione got herself out.

He sighed as he slumped into bed. Why was he doing this? When she had arrived, he had wanted her to go back home as quickly as possible. Why had he not he stroked that bargain with her?

"I want to get it out of my system," he heard himself say.

But in the back of his head he knew it was not true, as his mind played images of the beautiful princess while he slept through the night, the book long forgotten.

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10. Beginnings of a Discovery

A/N: Thank you for your understanding and patience, and for your amazing reviews! Yes, Fleur is Harry's cousin (I swear I did not make that connection until several of you pointed that out, thank you.) Anyway, Fleur knows this, but as far as anybody in Troy knows, she is Menelaus's daughter. Sparta would not want it known that Fleur is illegitimate, even when Troy knows that Helen was sleeping with Paris. So Fleur would not say anything to Harry or Cassandra, so Harry does not know this, and notice how Hermione never calls her half-sister in front of the Trojans. Hope this helps! Keep up the wonderful reviews!

Chapter 8: Beginnings of a Discovery

Harry jumped from his bed, noticing his sweaty embrace and blankets. He cursed everything in sight, for the protagonist of his dreams, the cause of the excess sweating, had been none other than Helen's older daughter, Hermione.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. There are a million women in Troy and I get this way over a Spartan? Completely out of the question." Harry got up and splashed his face with water, determined to get the beautiful princess away from his thoughts.

But his mind replayed the images of yesterday's afternoon when his hands had travelled to her waist, and the way her body fell against his, it was perfect...

"Stop it!" He hit the wall. "Damn it!" He cursed at the pain that cursed through his hand.

The sound of the hitting along with Harry's curse came in unison with a soft knock on the door, which only served to enrage Harry even more.

"Not now!" Harry hit the wall again, expecting that any second the door would open only to reveal either a giggling maid, his angry aunt, or an extremely happy Oliver.

However, the door did not open. Instead, he heard something being put on the floor and footsteps walking away.

"Oh hell." Harry put on his hunter green robe and proceeded to get the door. If he sis not get it, it would give everybody in the castle something else to talk about.

By the time he got it, there was no one there, but on the floor rested a tray with fruits and juice. He looked up to see a stray of wavy hair bouncing as the feet moved on a quickly pace.

"Hermione!" Her name escaped from his lips before he could stop it. What on earth was wrong with him?

The Spartan princess turned around, revealing a yellow gown and those chestnut eyes that never failed to draw his attention.

"I apologize Harry, did I wake you?"

Her sweet voice just awakened his body.

Stop it!

"No! I mean, I was up. Did you want something?"

"Not really. It is just...you missed breakfast this morning and I thought you might be hungry." She pointed at the food tray upon his feet.

"Really? What time is it?" Harry passed his hand through his damp hair. He never overslept.

"It is past ten."

"Ugh, there goes my exercise routine."

"Is something wrong? Are you ill?" Her voice shifted to a concerned tone.

"No, I am fine. Just...overslept I guess. You could have just let my servant bring it up." He could not believe she would do that for him. His aunt did not even bother to see him when he was sick.

But he supposed that she somehow felt indebted to him for the information he would share with her in a couple of hours.

"I apologize, but Oliver insisted that I bring it up because the servants often get a little carried away, whatever that means."

Harry shrugged at her words. It was true. If the maids found him sleeping, they would often get in bed with him.

"Um, thank you." He ran his hands through his hair again, his defense mechanism when he found himself in an awkward position.

"You are welcome. Well...might as well eat, do not want the meal to spoil, right?"

"Right." Harry shifted his eyes away from her body, which he had been staring intently at in the past seconds.

Stop!

He took the tray and was going back inside his chamber when he noticed that Hermione's eyes were still upon his gaze.

"You uh, wanted something else princess?"

"Actually, I was wondering when exactly in the afternoon do you want me to meet you. I mean, I do not want to be a bother," Hermione replied.

"Oh. After lunch is fine. We can come directly to my room if you want," he suggested, but noticed that Hermione flinched uncomfortably.

"I know my way. I will just meet you."

"Fine."

"Well, see you in a while I suppose."

"Until then."

Harry's eyes trailed her slim figure until she was safely out of sight.

"What the hell..." Harry hit himself on the forehead with his hand. This behavior over a Spartan was completely unacceptable.

Well, she is, after all, Helen's daughter, bound to be attractive... his mind tried to justify it, but he would not have it.

The attractiveness and beauty of Helen had precisely been the death warrant of his father, his uncle, and all the royal famil. He was not going to allow himself to fall for the next in Helen's line. Troy was not going to be put on jeopardy once more on his own account. He did not even want to take the Trojan throne from fear of messing things up again. His family seemed to be cursed somehow.

His father would have made a good ruler, though. Yes, he was bound for greatness. That was, however, before Paris got him killed. Stupid Paris. His father had died protecting him. For what? So he could not protect Troy afterwards from Paris's love ambitions.

"Bastard. Should have thrown you off the mountain when they had the chance," Harry cursed under his breath.

But his curses were in vain. After all, Hector was dead, his mother had died giving birth to him, and all his parentage, except Cassandra, had been murdered. Suffice to say the queen was not a friendly and warm sight.

The prince sighed while taking the meal to his chamber. He still was pledged to that thought that had occupied his mind since the day Oliver had arrived: no dame was worth his father's life, much less the ruination of a great empire.

****

"Good morning!" Fleur surprised Oliver from behind while he practiced target with his bow.

As a result, he jumped and the arrow was thrown to the lake.

"Great hell." Oliver turned around, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he settled his eyes on Hermione's sister. Then he cursed once more. Suffice to say that wiping his sweat was not a great success, for more sweat drops were starting to form.

"I am sorry, did I frighten you?" Fleur asked seductively, playing with a strand of her perfectly combed straight hair.

"I just did not expect to see you here of all places." Oliver smiled shyly, before returning to his target practice.

But instead of allowing him to continue, Fleur put her hands around his waist, her face resting on his back as his muscles tensed.

"What can I say? Spontaneity got the better of me." Her hands travelled to his abs, then his chest.

Oliver sighed. No woman had ever touched him that way, mostly because he never allowed it.

Then what the hell was he doing?

"Is there something I can do for you Fleur?" He pulled her hands away from his frame before turning around to face her.

"Oh. I want you to do a lot of things to me," she whispered, "But we will wait until dusk for that. Right now, I was hoping you could teach me how to...ride properly."

"Ride?"

"Horseback."

"Oh! Well, I suppose I do not mind that. We will meet at the stable after lunch and ride through the royal gardens. That should be enough to begin with. Is that all right with you?"

"As long as you are there." She resumed playing with her hair again.

"Of course. We would not want a nasty accident happening, would we?"

"Not precisely accidents..." Fleur knew riding was the last thing in her mind when it came to Oliver.

"Sorry?"

Fleur sighed. Could the guy be more clueless? She supposed she would just have to replace words with actions.

"Nothing. After lunch it is."

"All right. See you then."

"Count on it. May I?" Fleur took Oliver's bow from his hands and pointed at his target.

"Fleur, I do not think-” He had to fight the urge to chuckle. Princesses rarely learned to operate a bow and arrows.

His mouth went dry as the arrow hit the target right in the middle.

He had not been able to do that since he had begun his practice that morning!

"Wow, good shooting," Oliver remarked.

" Why thank you. You just have to have your eyes set exactly on what you want. That way, you can be sure that eventually, you will get it," she whispered, instantly setting her blue eyes on the prince, her next target.

****

Lunch came, but by the time the meal was brought to the table, its occupants were hardly hungry.

No one really touched his or her plates, except the queen, who devoured her food with great pleasure.

Harry was stirring the wine in his goblet, shifting occasional looks at Hermione from across the table. He was beginning to think the meeting in his room had not been such a good idea, given how his body was reacting to Hermione's presence. He supposed his dream was to blame.

Hermione played with her fork as she caught Harry's gaze, who immediately looked down at his plate. She just wanted nothing to ruin their meeting. She had waited practically her whole life for any piece of information about Paris, never mind where she was getting it. If she thought about it, it was rather ironic, since she had never wanted to go to Troy in the first place, and now the one with access to the information that she had stayed up wondering about countless nights was none other than the heir to the throne that she wanted nothing to do with.

Oliver did not taste his food, for he was too busy sweating for the lack of distance between Fleur and himself and Fleur hardly ate on any day, so no surprise there.

When lunch finally came to an end, that is, when the queen finally finished, Hermione was the first to stand up from the table as she retreated quietly, but fast, to her room.

Oliver followed, and Fleur took the liberty to take his arm as they made their way to the stable.

"Harry? Is something bothering you dear?" Cassandra approached his seat, patting his shoulder while noticing he had not bothered to touch his food.

He jumped at her touch.

"Uh? What?" Harry looked at his aunt.

"You barely touched your food," the queen replied.

"I ate late."

"You overslept."

"So I did."

"You never oversleep. Is there something on your mind?"

"You hated Paris. Why?" Harry suddenly asked, looking at his aunt.

He surprised himself at his own question. He had never cared about Paris. He had been indirectly responsible for his father's death after all. And even if he was interested in the piece of information he was asking for, he knew better than to ask his aunt about it.

The queen sighed, anger etched in her tired features.

"I thought we agreed-"

"I am a grown boy, Aunt Cassandra and if you want me to take the throne-"

"You are taking the throne then?"

"You know I will not." Harry stood up. "But I think I have a right-"

"Your father would have wanted you to-"

"My father is dead! He does not have a say in this!"

"And it was Paris's fault! So why do you-?"

"He was still your brother. He made a mistake, that is true and it cost my father's life, but you hated him before that, you hated him since he was born, did you not?"

"My visions told me he would bring doom to Troy. He did."

"He loved."

"That was not love Harry. It was lust. He wanted the woman whose beauty was unmatched, despite the consequences, and Paris did cry when he did not get what he wanted. My parents gave him everything-"

"My father loved as well. Was that lust?"

"You do not understand."

"Then make me."

"Your father loved Troy. He married, so he could leave a legacy. Yes, your mother loved him, and he loved her, as no one else did, but he was prepared to do whatever he had to for the love of his country."

"Like Agamemnon, who sacrificed his daughter?"

"Agamemnon was a horrid man indeed, but he knew what he wanted. Your father had that state of mind. Paris could not make himself do it. You see Harry, when you rule a country, you must look after to it, protect it. It is not about your feelings, but about greatness. The love you have for the glory of your county surpasses everything else. Hector believed that. Do you?"

****

Harry sighed as he made his way to his room. He did not know what had prompted him to ask such questions to his aunt, since he had never approved of what Paris had done in the first place. However, her answers still had his mind working.

His father was great indeed. He loved Troy. It was true. His father would have wanted him to be king, but could he really measure up to him? His heart frozen, for Troy's glory. He knew he did not have the best temperament in the world, but he had taught himself to be that way, at the expense of getting hurt. He had been raised with that. Royalty is superficiality, never get attached to anything if you want a great empire. He was trained for that, do things without pause or reflection. His heart was raised to be cold but...could one be so sure that this cold could not be melted away?

"Hi Harry."

Harry opened his chamber to find Hermione already seated on the floor, staring at his book collection. She had taken a few down to the floor with her. As she looked at him, her curls shadowed her face, making him sigh. This was definitely not a good idea.

"I hope you do not mind...I will return them." Hermione stood up, but Harry stopped her from making any further movement.

"Take any book you want. I have no use for them," he assured her.

He did not like to read, after all. He sat down and motioned for her to take a chair across from him.

"I, uh, thank you." Hermione gave him a thin smile, tossing her wavy hair away from her face.

"So princess, you have me. Where do you want me to start?"

"I want to hear everything you know."

"Fair enough. First of all then, do you know how your father came to marry your mother?"

****

"They flipped rings? They flipped rings for my mother!" Hermione's shouts filled the royal gardens of Troy.

After Harry had told her about the ring flip, she could not help but get out of the room. Out of frustration, she inquired about the issue to Oliver, who felt compelled to offer an explanation, although he knew that it would scarcely help matters and it would only make Hermione's temper flare even more.

"Hermione, calm down. Father said it was better-"

"Oh! It was Odysseus's idea? How grand then!"

"Hermione, he did what he could. Helen had disobeyed her father and that defiance had her brother killed. Her father would have disowned her if one of them did not marry her," Oliver explained.

"Them? Who exactly were them?"

"Agamemnon and the Spartan Bureaucracy. There was Menelaus and Achilles, among several others. Agamemnon and my father took care of the sorting as you call it, because they were already married at that time."

"And Menelaus was the lucky one?" Hermione's voice displayed a mixture of sarcasm and anger.

"It could have been worse. You could have wounded up being Achilles's daughter." Oliver shrugged.

Hermione raised her hand, sign that she wanted to hear no more of Achilles, so Oliver went on with Helen.

"The bargain was that the other men were to protect Sparta and support the king, along with his marriage to your mother. They were to stand together...upon the condition-"

"They actually did that? They kept the bargain?"

"Yes. Because your father kept his part," Oliver's voice had been reduced to a mere whisper, but Hermione heard perfectly.

"His part? What part?"

"The rest of them were to be content with admiring her from afar."

"Admire her? You mean see her naked in the throne room, do you not?"

"Well yes, that did happen, and Paris was there-"

"My father actually allowed this? I always thought it was-"

"If he had not the men would have-"

"It matters not! My mother was not a prize!"

"Well, technically she was. Her beauty was unmatched-"

"She was a human being, not an object of desire!"

"Hermione, your father hardly handles anything himself, Agamemnon rules Sparta, not him. You think Menelaus would have put a stop to this? He did not have the nerves to do anything. He still does not. Everything was done for him. That event allowed him control over the bureaucracy. Do you think he was going to pass the opportunity up? He even told your mother about the ring flip for crying out loud!"

"He did?"

"Yes. Why do you think your father never talks of Helen? He feels embarrassed about the way he treated her. He never called her a whore, did not kill her, because Paris respected her and treated her like she deserved, or so father says."

"I see."

"Your father never laid a hand on Paris, except for that misunderstanding with Agamemnon. He was supposed to fight Paris to the death and he who won would keep Helen, so to speak. But that never had the expected results.”

“Because Achilles killed Hector, right?”

Oliver nodded.

“Anyway, your father respected Paris, because he had truly won your mother's heart and made her happy. They all say it was lust, but your father knows it was not. That is why he never touched Helen after Paris was murdered."

"But he killed-"

"Menelaus did not kill Paris Hermione, Agamemnon did. He died in your mother's arms."

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11. Tell Me A Story

A/N: Here it is, the next instalment, finally! I apologize, but it is my senior year of college and it took a specially hard toll this semester. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I promise this story will be finished. I hope it was worth the wait! Don't forget to review!

Chapter 9: Tell Me A Story

Hermione had always thought that her father had killed Paris. That was what was expected for honour purposes, but not Agamemnon. Sure, her uncle was not a man with noble intentions, but she never thought, when nothing of her uncle's was really at stake, why would he do it? If Menelaus respected Paris, why did Agamemnon meddle in?

However, while her mind debated this, it went back to Oliver's earlier remark:

“Your father does not have the nerve to do anything himself.”

Suddenly, Hermione's thoughts drifted apart at the sound of her sister's laughter. She glanced at her to see that she was looking at Oliver through a fit of giggles, and even reached out to caress his hand, which Oliver tensed, but did not remove.

She normally would have been angry with this, for she never approved of her sister's careless flirting, but she could not dismiss the previous thoughts from her mind. She had to know more.

Automatically, her chestnut eyes shifted to look at Harry's emerald green ones, to find out that his eyes were already locked on her gaze.

She had excused herself from his room this afternoon the minute he said that Menelaus had won her mother over a ring flip, and while she told him that her leave was nothing to be concerned about, her nervous and angry tone of voice had given her away. He had let her leave, but not without a concerned look on his face. The same one he had displayed on his face at this precise moment while they were sitting at the dinner table.

Without really thinking, she smiled at him. It was not a thin smile, but a broad one.

Her smile turned Harry's stomach upside down.

“God, you are beautiful,” he thought, but hit himself mentally the second that thought made its way through his mind. Nevertheless, the gesture was returned, along with a question by the side before he could stop his mouth.

“Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” Hermione replied calmly, unsurprised by his question, to Harry's amusement.

He wondered if she did not think the fact that a Trojan worried about her slightly weird.

“I apologize for my outburst this afternoon.”

“Understandable.” The grim, unfeeling tone was back on his voice.

“No, you warned me. Anyway, I was kind of hoping we could reschedule tonight.” Her eyes displayed a pleading look

“Hermione-”

Harry immediately closed his mouth, realising that he had called her by her name in front of his aunt. Luckily, the queen did not seem to notice. She was engaged on a lengthy conversation with her royal advisor.

Harry immediately motioned Hermione to go with him.

They got out of the table as politely and quietly as they could and settled on a quiet corner by the side of the stairs.

“I do not think you should keep doing this to yourself. I had not said two sentences before you became upset this afternoon. Yes, I know you did, your face gave you away. I have not even started. It is past Hermione, maybe you should just leave it there. You did not want to come here in the first place right? Do not complicate things for yourself. Troy was just a memory for your mother; keep it like that on your mind,” Harry advised.

“I cannot. I want to resolve the puzzle in my mind. I am here now. I am going to have to face it sooner or later. My mother once told me there are things worth dying for. I want to know if love was that thing for her. I will be quiet, will not complain, and I will let you do the talking, I promise. I will not disturb, but please…”

Her chestnut eyes displayed that pleading look again and Harry knew he could not refuse.

“All right. Meet me in my room, fifteen minutes.”

Harry got back to the table, but Hermione headed directly to the stairs. She was not hungry anyway and she was certainly not in the mood to put on with the Trojan queen.

****

“Where were you Harry, dear?” Alexandria asked him.

“What?” Harry practically jumped.

“You left the table so suddenly.”

“I had a matter to attend to,” he stated simply.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine.” He looked at his aunt, who obviously did not believe him.

Fortunately for him, Oliver interrupted.

“Well, I am off. Big day today, exhausted. Good night Harry, Cassandra, Fleur.”

“Oh, I will go with you!” Fleur said. “I mean, my room is right next to yours, and my

sleeping hour is drawing close.”

“Okay, night then.” He smiled at Cassandra and Harry, before strolling out.

Cassandra glanced at them, before glancing back to Harry.

“Has Herminia chosen her throne successor yet?”

“Hermione.”

“What?”

“Her name is Hermione,” Harry spat.

“Answer the question Harry,” Cassandra ordered him, coldness in her voice as Harry's stomach gave a bolt of uneasiness.

It was almost as though she had noticed his uneasiness with Hermione. Well, that correction which had just taken place, completely unnecessary, especially since they were talking about a Spartan, should have made it quite obvious.

“How should I know?” he spat back. He had better keep his composure.

“I have seen you with her lately. I thought you ought to know.”

“Well I do not.” Harry stood up, but his aunt stopped him before he could leave.

“Be mindful of your feelings. They are not worth Troy…your father's death.”

Harry sighed and headed to his bed chamber. If he did not know any better, he would say that his aunt had not just noticed a change in him, she knew.

But knew what? Nothing was going on, nor would it.

****

He bathed himself and put on his night pants and his robe. He proceeded to comb his untidy hair. This action was interrupted however, as he heard a soft door knock.

“Good evening.” He heard Hermione's voice as he opened. She had not changed, he noticed, and was still wearing her red gown, only without the mantle.

Harry stepped aside, allowing her access to his bedroom. He sighed, as another of talk about Paris lay ahead.

****

“God night Fleur.” Oliver smiled as they approached the Spartan princess' room.

“I really enjoyed riding today,” she said.

“Well, you are a good rider. I do not know what you complain about.”

“It must be that I never cease to want you by my side.” She drew close to him.

Oliver laughed nervously at her statement. For whatever reason, his nerves seemed to get worked up whenever she was near and he found himself focusing on her pink, moist lips, so he chose to continue the dialogue rather than keep staring at her.

“Oh come on Fleur. I am sure Hermione can teach you how to ride too.”

“But you taught me first.”

“Yes I did, but-”

“Do I get to say thank you?” she whispered seductively.

He in turn, patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“Well, you are very welcome.”

“No, I mean, a proper thank you.”

Fleur put her arms around his neck. Her lips brushed his gently in a sweet, but arousing kiss.

She felt Oliver's arms clasp around her waist as his mouth opened hesitantly over hers, his body finally relaxing.

However, as soon as it started, it was over. Oliver tore his mouth away, unable to catch his breath. He met Fleur's sapphire eyes, her body still toppled against his. But when her eyes started closing again, he distanced from her.

“Good night,” he said hurriedly and got into his bed chamber.

Fleur sighed, leaning against her door while a smile formed on her lips. At least that kiss would have him thinking about her most of the night. She wanted him, and she would have him, the following night being a safe bet.

****

“Paris was abandoned on a mountain because Cassandra predicted he would bring ruination to the kingdom. He was rescued by a peasant and reencountered his family while fighting for his adoptive father's bull. He even defeated Hector, father. After that, Cassandra recognised him and told father to kill him, but he refused and his parents welcomed him back with open arms. He was arrogant, but had a good heart, at least that is what father always said. He first went to Sparta because the Spartans wanted to begin a war to get a safe passage to import grain. That is where he met your mother, who was married to Menelaus at that time. In fact, he was inside the throne room when your mother posed naked. He said they had met before, rubbish if you ask me. They first kissed that night and your mother would pass all her free time with him while Menelaus was absent dealing with diplomatic affairs accompanied by Agamemnon. Agamemnon wanted to kill him and his companions because he thought them conspiring against Sparta. Helen became aware of this and got Paris out of the castle to his ship. She did not go with him at first, but then threw herself in the water and Paris pulled her inside as the ship sailed away. That is how she came to Troy. The next morning I assume your father noticed her absence and began plotting the war. She spent several months in Troy before the Spartan ships came. She wanted to go back to Menelaus to save Paris' life, but he would not have it. My father used to say that Paris loved her truly, that is why she was kept in Troy. That is why my father lost his life.”

Harry sighed and looked at Hermione as he prepared to continue the story.

However, he found her fast asleep on the chair.

He stared at the window. It was pretty late, he could tell, for the stars were fading, giving room to a dark twilight. He took her in his arms, careful not to wake her up and put her on his bed, getting the sheets on top of her immobile body.

Hermione moaned sleepily as he shifted her soft curls away from her face. He sighed and closed the door silently behind him, wondering where that sudden gesture had come from.

****

Hermione woke up peacefully, yawning pleasantly. She could not remember the last time she had slept so well.

She shifted in her pillow, as the sheets gave away Harry's scent. Her eyes opened wide as she acknowledged where she was. The prince of Troy's chamber!

She sat up to discover her body was still clothed and she sighed, burying her face in her hands. What the hell was she doing there?

“Good morning.”

Her eyes looked up to find an already dressed Harry staring at her.

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12. Brush

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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13. Longing

A/N: Thank you for all your nice reviews, and I apologize for the mistakes once more. But I thought since you guys generally seemed to like the last chapter, you might enjoy this one. Here is a late Christmas present! Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Longing

Hermione did not even bother to show up at dinner that night, or so Harry noticed while he wished he could throw some of his food at his aunt, in hopes of making her stop that bickering that she was trying to get across to him. Truth was, he did not understand a thing she was saying, something about royal matters or so, but he did not care. His mind had other pressing thoughts at the moment.

Fortunately for Harry, Oliver was able to successfully interrupt his aunt's attempted argument.

"Well, my bedtime has arrived. Harry, do not forget, hunting day tomorrow." Oliver grinned at him.

"How could I?" Harry replied, but did not even bother to look up at him.

"All right, good night"

Oliver strolled upstairs and Fleur took the opportunity to go silently behind him, after excusing herself with a thin smile.

"All right then, I am heading my chambers too. Good night Aunt Cassandra." Harry stood up, thinking he could get away if he just went immediately behind Oliver and Fleur, but he was not so lucky.

"Allow me to accompany you," his aunt insisted.

"Sorry?"

"I will accompany you up to your room." Cassandra smiled diplomatically, another word for "fake," in Harry's opinion. .

"Dear aunt, your chambers are opposite to mine, and I certainly do not need help getting to my room. I can get there by myself."

"But I want to tuck in my favorite nephew."

Harry frowned. His aunt wanted something, but he could not put his finger on it.

"I am your only nephew and I am twenty years old, I do not need tucking in," Harry spat coldly. He wished his aunt would tell him exactly what she wanted and get it over with, instead of pretending to have some nonexistent maternal instinct toward him.

"Fine, but let me at least accompany you. I feel that we barely spend time together anymore."

"And?" The word escaped from his mouth before he could stop it.

"Harry, that hurts!" Cassandra appeared insulted. "After all, who took care of you when-"

"Fine Cassandra, you are free to do whatever you want. It is your castle after all." Harry was sick and tired of his aunt bringing up the topic of his father's death.

"That is better. It is soon to be your castle too, you know."

"I think not."

"Harry-"

"Stop it, we have been through this, I will not take it."

"Really? Are you sure nobody can change your mind?"

"What? Do not be ridiculous."

"Not even the Spartan girl?"

****

"Oliver, wait up!" Fleur screamed from behind him.

Oliver pulled into an abrupt stop. Fleur had not made her presence known and he had been too busy with his own thoughts to notice her.

His body tensed up out of nowhere when she finally caught up with him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You really need to walk slower," Fleur complained as he turned around.

"Fleur, sorry, I did not hear you."

"No worries." She smiled seductively, passing a hand through his already sweaty chest.

"Did you want something?"

"Just you," she whispered. The prince of Ithaca immediately backed away.

"What?" Her statement both scared him and although he did not dare to admit it, excited him.

"I really could not stop thinking about you all day," she said calmly.

"You could not?" Oliver was going berserk by now. Why should that single statement make his heart beat twice as fast?

"Of course not. Who could, after that kiss you gave me last night?" she asked, leaning close to his ear.

"Fleur, it was you who-"

"Well, you did not complain, did you? Actually, you kissed me back. It left my mind swarming with curiosity last night."

"Curiosity?"

"Just wondering...if you wanted more where that came from before you return to Ithaca."

Fleur's lips moved slowly towards his mouth, giving him a kiss at the corner of his lips that threw all his senses away. He reached for the side of her face and pulled her towards him, crashing his lips into hers.

She moaned as he pulled her body tightly against his.

Before she knew it, she was leaned against his room's door as he kissed her neck. Fleur was only thankful that there was nobody in the hallway. Who knew that only a peck could provoke such a reaction on the prince of Ithaca?

"Are you going to make love to me?" she asked between soft moans.

Her statement made him stop his sensual attack to meet her sapphire eyes.

"Do you want me to?"

What was he saying? He was not supposed to want this! This was Hermione's sister! He himself had said that he was going to make sure that their kiss last night would not lead anywhere. But even diplomatic propriety could not hide the fact that his heart was beating faster than any previous moment of his life. His body obviously wanted this. His mind however, knewthat such a thing was not wise.

"I want what you want."

The fact that she apparently wanted this as much as he did was his undoing.

Without hesitation, Oliver took the beautiful princess in his arms, kicking the door to his chamber open and shutting it behind him as he eased Fleur down to his bed, diplomatic propriety and honor matters carelessly forgotten.

****

"I beg your pardon?" Harry stopped all movement as he faced his aunt.

Her question had knocked his senses back into him. Could Hermione actually do that? Never mind that, how had his aunt picked up his obvious attraction for Hermione?

"You heard me. It is all over your face, you foolish boy."

"Cassandra, I would never put Troy on jeopardy. I would not let a Spartan control me and I am surprised by the stupidity of your question," Harry spat angrily, his composure only partially regained.

"Is that what you tell yourself every night before you go to sleep and start sweating?"

"Where are you going with this!"

"Take the throne so she can get sent back to Sparta Harry. You know she will not rest until she gets what she wants. Troy's doom!"

"I am not taking the throne for your mere pleasure Cassandra!"

"You are behaving like a child, Harry!"

"I suppose that is why you walked me to my room, then? So I would not fall down!" His anger was rising with every statement his aunt made.

"No. In fact, I was going to make sure you stop in your own room." Cassandra raised her head and looked down at him with a hint of disdain in her eyes.

"Where did you think I would stop, wench?"

"Do not talk to me in that manner Hector!"

"Harry!" The green eyed prince shut his chamber's door in his aunt's face. He could not believe this.

He should have been outraged at the mere suggestion that he could be manipulated like a puppet by the hands of no other than Helen's daughter. However, the only thought that crossed his mind was:

Had his feelings for the Spartan princess been that obvious?

"Well, they were pretty obvious this afternoon," his mind reminded him.

As his mind wandered around the subject of the Spartan princess, he remembered Hermione had not eaten at all that evening. In fact, nobody could assure him that she had eaten anything at all during that day, as she had locked herself in her chamber for the majority of the afternoon.

His first thought was to get her some food. However, after replaying what had happened that afternoon in his mind, he thought better of it. By the looks of it, she would surely rather rot than see him again.

She obviously had not liked his effrontery, but if she had not, then why had she not pulled away?

"I have to apologize, first thing in the morning," he concluded, for apologizing tonight, for obvious reasons, would not be a very wise thing to do. And trying to analyze the situation ,why had the kiss lasted as long as it had, and why had Hermione not stopped it could not change the fact that his gesture could not have been more inappropriate. And to top it all, Hermione obviously had not approved.

Harry slumped himself in his bed, feeling that today had been an exhausting day indeed. Yet tomorrow, by the looks at what he had to do, did not look any more promising than today.

But before he could close his eyes, a knock on his door interrupted his attempted slumber, just like it always seemed prompt to interrupt anything important. And if he was to attempt to not alienate Hermione for the remainder of her stay in Troy, however long that might be and quite long it was going to be, he suspected, he was going to need his sleep.

"If it is Cassandra, I swear I will execute her myself," he told himself.

But his eyes opened wide as Hermione's face came into view.

"Harry."

"Hermione-"

She held a hand up to silence him before he could try to apologize. Her face held no emotion, but her eyes were keen to avoid his.

"About this afternoon, I wanted-" Hermione began to speak. Suffice to say, Harry immediately interrupted, clearly seeing where this was going.

"Look, I'm really sorry-"

But his statement was cut short by her lips, which suddenly clashed against his, effectively stopping all argument or intents of one.

The effect that her soft lips were having on his mouth was intoxicating and that made Harry let out a groan before she broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

"The only thing I'm sorry for...is not kissing you back this afternoon," Hermione admitted bluntly.

"Wha... you..." Harry's mouth was sputtering words while his mind was fighting the desire to pull her into his arms and make up for lost time.

He knew he should have said something, anything to get them out of their currently compromising situation, for what he was doing right then stood against the very things he believed in and protocols that his country got ruled upon. However, the mere sight of her and her next request made such a task impossible.

"Please just kiss me Harry." Hermione's lips leaned back into his as Harry followed Hermione's request, pulling her tightly against him while the door snapped shut.

Hermione leaned against the closed door while Harry moved onto the skin of her neck and her hands traveled to the un-knitted hunter green robe that was covering his body, successfully pulling his garment off.

Harry groaned as Hermione's lips touched his chest and rest assured the night's argument and his conscience's advice were long forgotten as he eased the beautiful Spartan princess into his bed and got on top of her, stripping her of her clothes.

Hermione clung to Harry's neck as her head leaned back, allowing his mouth to trail up a path of kisses over her throat. And that was when she lost herself in his embrace. She was going to be Harry's tonight and strangely, at that moment, she could not remember wanting anything more.

****

Hermione's chestnut eyes opened in the middle of the night. She woke up to notice that she was pleasantly warm as blankets were tucked over her body. The main source of warmth however, was coming from Harry's arm, which were resting around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. They were so close that she could feel his breath tickle her face.

That was when her mind brought her to her senses. What was she doing? She came to Troy for a task, and that was what she was precisely not doing, of all things. And the bargain definitely did not include spending the night with the heir to the Trojan throne.

What had she done?

There was a reason she had not responded to that kiss. It was against her honor, her better judgment, and basically all the things that Sparta stood for. Harry had been good to her, as friendly as could be expected, but that did not mean that their relationship was allowed to go beyond strictly diplomatic terms. She had come to his room to apologize for leaving so abruptly and also to put a stop to what the prince of Troy had begun so hesitantly. However, those were the last things she did, as evidenced by the position she had just found herself in. As soon as she had seen him, the longing for returning such a hesitant kiss had returned, and she had thrown all caution, her honor, and her virginity to the winds.

Her bodily instincts could not be blamed, for the prince was certainly a handsome man, but her mind should have known better. For all she knew, the prince had acted out of lust and this would not and could not lead anywhere past a pleasant night. And who was to say she had not acted out of lust herself? After all, she hardly knew the man. Now, she would be lucky if the prince kept this quiet, for it would mean her ruination and dishonor once she returned to Sparta... all valid reasons to get out of that room.

Hermione carefully removed Harry's arm from her waist as she sat up on the bed, covering her body with hunter green blankets. The moon still shone brightly, so it had to be a little after midnight.

She stood up, seeking her clothes over the so wildly discarded pile on the floor. But before she could get hold of her garments, a hand seized her wrist gently.

She looked back to discover Harry's emerald eyes fully open and gazing at her in a sleepy manner.

"It is not even dawn yet. Stay," he whispered.

"Harry-" she tried to take her leave, to tell him she was in enough trouble as it was. And she should not have even called him by his first name in such a compromising situation!

"Please do not leave," he begged her, kissing her hand and pulling her back to bed.

Hermione sighed and tucked back in as Harry pulled her back against his chest and cupped the side of her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Diplomatic propriety would just have to wait until morning. Since the mistake had already been made, there was not much she could do, except do as he asked to not risk making him angry. And yes, there was the real reason for her stay, which was that she wanted to stay with her source of warmth as much as he wanted her to stay. Of course, she would never admit that.

"You are so beautiful." He started planting soft kisses in her forehead and her cheek as her head emerged from his chest to question his current display of affection.

But Harry brushed her lips before she could utter a word and Hermione's arms came to rest around his neck, questioning and sense of duty forgotten once more.

The last thing Hermione remembered was Harry, whispering soft words in her ear and planting soft kisses around her face as her eyelids closed into a peaceful slumber, the princess blissfully unaware of the consequences of her actions.

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14. Wake Up and Smell Troy

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but college has started again, so there will be many more delays to come. I promise to make it worth your while. Once again, I apologize for the mistakes. Enjoy! And don't forget to review.

Chapter 12: Wake up and Smell Troy

Hermione moaned as she opened her eyes to greet a new day. She sat up on the bed, yawning and passing her hands through her untamed wavy hair. She covered her body with the Harry scented sheets as it was now officially unclothed.

Her feet touched the cold floor as she reached for Harry's dresser and picked his hairbrush.

She did not want to greet the Trojan prince with a curtain of untamed wavy hair. She sighed as the events of last night were replayed in her mind. It had been...

She gasped when it suddenly occurred to her to mind the time. It was way past her usual waking hour, as the sun shone brightly. She would not want to catch the Trojan queen on her way from Harry's room...or Fleur, what would Fleur say? Of course, Hermione was not aware that Fleur was only too engaged on her own night activities.

Hermione hurriedly scanned the floor for her garments; only to find the floor swiped of all pieces of clothing.

"Oh crap," Hermione cursed under her breath. Why was it that when she always was in a hurry, she seemed to waste more time?

Her mind did not have much time to dwell on it though, for her feet slipped as soon as the bathroom door opened. She could only blame her many distractions that morning, which apparently, had deprived her of her normal body coordination.

"Oops, you ought to be careful. You know, you should have stayed in bed. People traditionally stay in bed when they are still sleepy."

Despite all the awkwardness that she should have felt at that moment, not to mention fear, Hermione's lips curled up a smile as she felt Harry's strong arms take hold of her embrace. Apparently, Harry had his own explanations for her clumsiness.

"Yes well, those are people who actually get to stay in their OWN BEDS." Hermione looked at him.

"Oh come on Hermione, do not tell me you are actually going to Sparta so you can just take a nap." Harry grinned.

"You know what I mean." Hermione blushed as Harry's gaze wandered over her body.

"Fine, but how about a proper morning greeting?" He cupped the side of her face as he brushed her lips softly.

"Were you looking for these?" He handed her garments out to her.

"Thank you. I will go and put these on." Hermione headed towards the bathroom.

"Why there? You can do it right here, after all, I would say I have seen-"

"Harry!"

"Oh fine, go ahead. You can even take a bath if you want to. Water is warm and I can get some garments for you-"

"Thank you, I will pass. I would not want to intrude. I will just-"

"Hermione, you are not intruding. You can have whatever you want. I will even bring you breakfast if that is your wish."

"No, I will take the bath first."

"All right, what color would you like?"

"What?"

"For your garments."

"Surprise me."

****

"Is dark green all right?" Harry laid her clothes on the bed as she came out, a silk cloth around her.

"I told you it was fine."

"I just love how it looks on you," he admitted.

"Do you?"

"I do. You know, I spat my wine on the table when you first came out for dinner dressed in the color."

"Well, if I remember correctly, I also spat wine on you." She smiled.

What was she doing? She should have been out of there by now!

"Yes you did, though I never figured out why. Did Casandra do anything to upset you?"

Hermione's smile slowly faded as she remembered the queen's remark for that evening.

Does that include a test of the future king in bed...?

"Hermione."

"Uh?" Hermione snapped out of her reverie.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I will just...put my garments on."

Hermione came out clothed in a flash, her hair combed into a long braid. She immediately noticed that Harry was taking his bow out.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, hunting day, with Oliver. Want to come?"

"No thanks. I have something to take care of." She had all right. The affair that had brought her here in the first place. "I will see you."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, but he was not content with that. He took her by her waist and opened his mouth over hers.

"Do you want to come down to breakfast with me, or do you still want me to bring it up?" he asked her tenderly as soon as the kiss was over.

"Oh, no Harry. I am not that hungry. Besides, I am not eager to see your mother's face."

"My-what?"

But Hermione had already closed the door.

****

"Good morning, Harry dear," Cassandra greeted the Trojan heir as he went to the dining room dressed in his hunting apparel.

"Hello." He rushed to the table, but only had a cup of tea.

"Did you get some rest?"

"Well I surely had a very pleasant night," Harry muttered grinningly.

"Pardon?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you will be having for breakfast?" Cassandra noticed only a cup of tea in his hand.

"Today is hunting day. Have you seen Oliver this morning?"

"No. He has not even come out of his room."

"He has not?" Harry frowned. Normally, Oliver was an early riser. What could have possibly prevented him from making his morning curfew?

****

"Mm," Fleur moaned at the feel of Oliver's lips pressed on her neck. "Oliver!" she whined sleepily.

"Well, good morning to you too. " He smiled.

"Morning? We went to sleep around three." Fleur giggled.

"Still, it is a beautiful morning to let it go to waste."

"Pity, because I plan to sleep some more." Fleur cuddled against the pillow, but Oliver settled on top of her.

"Pity I simply will not let you." He began to attack her neck once more.

"You would not let me last night either." She giggled again.

"I do not recall you having a problem with that."

"No, but-"

Oliver moved to her lips before Fleur had time to finish her argument.

A door knock interrupted their private moment. Oliver fell off the bed as he grabbed his pants from the floor and stood up. Fleur, on the other hand, simply took hold of Oliver's pillow and cuddled pleasantly in bed once more.

"I would not get too comfortable!" Oliver teased as he answered the door. "Harry, good morning," he greeted his friend in an uncharacteristically happy manner, which caused Harry to frown once more, his arms crossed.

"Well, I was going to suggest illness for your absence, but I think not," said Harry.

"Absence? Is it time for breakfast already?" With Fleur on his bed, the prince of Ithaca had lost all track of time.

"It is rather past it actually. We are supposed to be in the woods already, as it is nearing mid-afternoon."

"Woods?" Oliver asked with a puzzled expression.

"Our hunting trip? The one you told me not to forget?" Now Harry was puzzled.

He was positively sure it was today and Oliver would never postpone a hunting trip.

Although today seemed to be that day, for Oliver's expression immediately changed as his memory began working.

"Hunting trip! I completely-"

"Forgot about it?" Harry finished his sentence, frowning once again. "Oliver? Are you all right? Did you get some rest?"

"No I did not," Oliver blurted out before he could stop himself.

"That explains it. What were you doing last night?"

"I, uh...well..." Oliver ran his hand nervously through his hair. He decided finally, that an "I made love to Hermione's sister" would not do, so he decided to refocus on the matter at hand. "Ithacan matters. But we can still go-"

"No, hunting is better in the early hours of dawn, so we go tomorrow. I am certain you can find the rest quite useful.".

"Well then, tomorrow it is. I will just get some breakfast then."

"I brought you a cup of tea." Harry handed the cup to his friend.

"Thank you Harry. I presume you will be able to entertain yourself as well. Are you going to work on your sword skills again?"

"No, I will make my day more productive than a simple training session."

And as if right on cue, he saw Hermione strolling in the hallway, engaged deeply in some book and carrying a teacup on her other hand.

"Hermione!" Oliver greeted her enthusiastically. Hermione gasped from the sudden interruption and her feet slipped once again, sending the book down and the teacup threatening to stain the castle's stone floor.

Fortunately, Harry caught her, putting an arm around her waist and his other hand steadying the liquid as the book collapsed on the floor. His hand grasped her waist as he pulled away by an inch.

"Are you all right princess?" he asked. His face held no emotion, but his voice was considerably warmer than before.

"Yes, thank you." Hermione pulled away from Harry's embrace as he handed her back the hot beverage.

"I will get your book for you." Harry leaned down and handed her the volume "Justice: A Look at the Similarities and Differences of the Spartan and Trojan Law." Actually, the volume was his.

"How kind of you." Hermione displayed a thin smile, glancing at Oliver afterwards. "Good morning Oliver."

"Hello Hermione, sorry I frightened you. It is such a beautiful morning!" He smiled excitedly.

"Undoubtedly, which reminds me, did you not have a trip with Prince Harry here?" Hermione glanced between the two.

"We cannot go hunting at these hours. Too much sunlight, so that postpones the plans, giving each of us a free day." Harry smiled while looking at Hermione.

"Oh well, I am certain tomorrow will be as good a hunting day as today. Good day to you." Hermione strolled along. Harry was preparing to go after her, before she turned abruptly. "By the way, have you seen my sister around? I cannot seem to find her anywhere."

"I will be sure to tell her that you are looking for her; if I see her," Oliver said innocently.

"Right then." Hermione continued her way. Harry walked as casually as he could behind her while Oliver closed his room door.

****

He found Fleur with her garments on.

"Already leaving, are you?"

"You will starve to death if I stay," Fleur replied.

"Hermione is looking for you."

"I heard. I will meet her after I change, and I will see you later in the afternoon." She grinned, caressing the side of his face.

"Actually, the hunting trip is off, so I might get to see you earlier.” He smiled back as Fleur looked at him with evident interest.

"I will take you up on that." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

Oliver sighed happily and wondered if Hermione would let her sister travel to Ithaca.

****

"Hermione, wait up!" Harry caught her by her waist, his arms entwined around her.

"Hey, hands where I can see them!" Hermione turned around as Harry lowered his arms, putting a safe distance between them in the hall.

"Got my book I see," Harry pointed out.

"You said I could have the rest if I wanted to," Hermione replied.

"And you may. Anything else you want?" Harry smiled mischievously, attempting to get a step closer to her.

"Ah! I would actually like to get my duties done," Hermione admitted. "I am sure you have your own."

"Well, it so happens that you are in luck, because my plans just dropped out the window, so I am a free man."

"All right. I imagine you are going to be training with that sword of yours then. Try to make it back in one piece though."

"Why do you not make sure of that?"

Hermione's eyes widened unexpectedly. Was he actually flirting with her? The whole morning had been awkward as it was, but tempting as it was to believe that the prince actually felt something for her in the scarce days that he had known her, she had to admit that his intentions were not clear, as he had always been the strong silent type.

However, she had never seen him so…playful.

"As appealing as that sounds, I have affairs waiting to be taken care of."

"But I want to spend the day with you!" Harry complained, causing her eyes to widen once more.

"Harry-" She tried to reason with him.

They had, after all, to talk about last night sooner or later. And sooner rather than later was preferred. She did not want to give him with the impression that she was a harlot, which sadly was the word that described her uncontrollable physical urges with a complete stranger last night, and her reaction this morning as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"All right, just for a while then and I promise I will bring you right back to your affairs. What do you say?"

Hermione sighed while Harry gave her a pleading look. She could not help smiling. True, she could use some relaxation and spending the day with the prince of Troy was indeed a temptation. What harm would it be to put the affairs on hold for a bit? And talk about last night while on it. It was better to take advantage of his seemingly happy mood after all.

"All right."

"Yes? Great!" He impulsively leaned in to kiss her.

"Harry! We are in the middle of the hall." Hermione backed away.

She knew that what she had done was forbidden and she would at least keep up a clean public appearance while she dealt with the matter.

"Oh fine. I will meet you at the stable then?"

"All right." She gave him one last thin smile and he took the liberty to cup her chin, caressing it with his thumb.

"Harry! There you are."

Hermione jerked her face away as Harry removed his hand away in a flash. He then turned around to face the source of the interruption.

"Ginny. Damn it."

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15. An Unpleasant Familiar Face

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this one.

Chapter 13: An Unpleasant Familiar Face

"Good afternoon to you too honey." Virginia approached him with a broad smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Harry crossed his arms, returning to his cold tone of voice.

"Oh come on, is that any way to treat your future fiancée?"

Hermione just dropped her book at Virginia's last word. Fiancée?

"You are not my fiancée. Just because Cassandra fancies you does not mean I do. Now excuse me, I must attend to other affairs that do not concern you." Harry leaned down and picked up the volume from the floor again, giving it to Hermione, who stood still as a stone, just staring from Harry to the familiar girl who was throwing herself at him.

Apparently, she noticed the gesture.

"Ooh, who is this Harry dear? I do not believe you have introduced us properly."

"Ginny-" Harry was growing more annoyed by the minute.

"My name is Hermione." The princess of Sparta bowed her head politely. Virginia did the same.

Virginia raised her head, looking at Hermione's gaze.

"Your name sounds terribly familiar. Have we not met before?" Virginia asked.

"I would remember," Hermione answered.

She did. Harry's "sweetheart" was the daughter of Athens's wealthiest army general, and they had fought alongside Troy in the Trojan War. However, she could not hide the disdain that she felt. Hateful words just came out of her mouth. She did not want to admit however, that it had something to do with the way this visitor was clinging to the man she had just made love to.

"Yes, I supposed you would." Virginia smiled arrogantly, igniting Hermione's temper even more. "I still think I have seen you somewhere though." Virginia looked at the Spartan princess thoughtfully. "Hermione...of Sparta? Oh my God! You are Menelaus' daughter?"

"Hey, what do you know? You have a good memory," Hermione replied with sarcasm.

"My, look who is all grown up! I must say I did not expect to see you here, of all places."

"Life is full of surprises," Hermione replied. "What brings you here? Your father is in good health, I assume?"

"Oh yes, thank you. I would not want to impose in dear Cassandra's castle. She has been so kind to me. But I missed my Harry too much."

"Your Harry?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

She had been too occupied with the fact that there was actually a girl too close to Harry for her comfort to hear the word fiancée being interchanged. Was there something that the prince of Troy had conveniently, might she add, forgotten to tell her?

Virginia however, changed the topic before she touched the subject.

"But what are you doing here? Your uncle let you out? I swear Agamemnon has more eyes for you that the whole Spartan country! He never lets you out of sight! If I did not know any better, I would say he fancied you!" Virginia laughed.

Hermione just pursed her lips. If it were not for the sake of diplomatic civility, she would have smacked the red-haired girl then and there. How dare she be so inappropriate?

However, Harry interrupted her thoughts before she could actually say to Virginia exactly what she was thinking.

"Agamemnon?" He glanced at Hermione.

"Uh?" Hermione glanced back at him. He had been so quiet that she actually had not expected him to speak.

"That bastard is still alive?" Harry blurted.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, he has not-"

"There you are Ginny! I have been searching high and low!"

Cassandra's appearance made Harry keep his questions to himself.

"Cassandra, how are you?" Virginia smiled broadly as she and the queen exchanged a hug.

"You found Harry, I see," Cassandra cooed.

However, the chuckle was momentarily suppressed once she laid eyes on Hermione, who was right beside Harry. "Helen number two! Why, good afternoon. I assume you have met Harry's fiancée?"

"I have had the pleasure, your majesty," Hermione answered politely, although the fiancée part did not go too well with her, considering she had just slept with that man.

But then again, why should it matter? She was not supposed to have touched him in the first place.

However, he should have had the decency to say something.

But who would? After she had thrown herself against him so carelessly, no man that she knew of would stop such an assault.

Hermione sighed.

She had only herself to blame for her distress.

"She is not my fiancée," Harry muttered, effectively interrupting all thoughts battling inside Hermione's mind.

"Begging your pardon, Harry dear?" It appeared that Cassandra had not heard well, but her eyes were displaying a warning for Harry to correct his earlier statement.

Unfortunately for her, her threats were ineffective when it came to the Trojan prince.

"I said that she is not my fiancée, for the thousandth time." Harry's voice was rising up by the minute.

"Well, of course not. We have to have a proper engagement party," Cassandra replied, trying to correct Harry's statement for him. But Harry would not have it.

"We will not be having anything, because there will be no engagement," Harry muttered once more.

Cassandra noticed his temper rising and decided to change the subject. And she definitely would not miss the opportunity to bother Hermione now that she noticed the princess was ready to leave. She had glanced at her just as she was turning around and hoping to leave quietly.

"Oh Harmonia, have you finished convincing Harry to take the throne yet?"

Suffice to say that Hermione turned around abruptly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was merely asking if your task was done. I mean, your job consists of no more than to pick a worthy heir to the Trojan crown and since Harry is the legitimate heir, I figured that someone would finally convince him to take the crown, whatever methods of diplomacy or techniques that may require."

Cassandra smiled broadly at Hermione's fish frozen face.

Harry turned to look at Hermione. Was his aunt suggesting that Hermione had slept with him to make him take the crown? Was that true? But how did his aunt know what had happened last night in the first place?

Harry knew that the thought of manipulation should not have bothered him at all. After all, could he realistically really risk a relationship with a Spartan, moreover, Helen's daughter and the heir to the Spartan throne? He did not even know why Hermione had kissed him in the first place. Did she not hate him? It had certainly appeared so. But then again, he had not been too fond of her either. And just last night, he had refuted that statement. Suffice to say that the thought of manipulation bothered him immensely, whether he chose to admit it or not.

Before he could give further thoughts to the matter however, Hermione found her voice. It appeared that he also was following Harry's train of thought.

Whatever her reasons for making love to him last night, which she was either unsure of herself or was too scared to admit, she still did not want him to think he had been used. She would later question herself as to why she had cared so much. After all, who was to say the prince had not used her?

"Well your majesty, as much as I would like it for my task to turn simpler and for your heir to take the throne, I respect his decision. If he does not want the throne, then he should not take it. It is as simple as that. Therefore, he should know that I will not try to convince him. He is twenty years old. He can make his own mind. Excuse me."

Hermione was walking so fast that she nearly pushed Fleur to the floor when they crossed paths on the way to the kitchens.

"Fleur, where were you?"

****

"Well, I must be excused as well, Aunt Cassandra. Unlike you, I do have things to do," said Harry.

The truth was that he wanted to catch Hermione before she could draw her own conclusions to his supposed "engagement." Why he felt compelled to do it was not clear in his mind at the moment.

"Surely you will not leave Ginny all alone in the castle today, will you Harry? I am sure she would like a tour of the castle's interior gardens." Casandra tried to stop her nephew once more.

"Oh, I will not leave her alone, by all means no! A lady should never be alone. That is why she will stay with you dear aunt. I trust you will take good care of her."

Harry smiled broadly as he bowed his head politely to an indignant Virginia and walked away.

****

"I have been around," Fleur answered innocently, "This castle is simply a wonder once you explore it."

" I imagine so. You are not an early riser though." Hermione looked at her skeptically.

"No, but it is such a beautiful morning to let it go to waste." Fleur tossed her long silvery blonde hair while Hermione frowned. Her sister had just quoted Oliver.

"Yes well, the morning is over. It is mid-afternoon now."

"I am sure I will enjoy afternoon as much as I enjoyed the morning. But what about you? Where are you headed?"

"Stables. I fancy a horse ride. By the way, I did not ask you how your lessons in horseback turned out, Fleur." Hermione crossed her arms. She knew all too well that her "lack" of horseback riding abilities had been just something to get Oliver's attention.

"Oh, I assure you Hermione, very promising indeed. I will see you." Fleur strolled past her sister.

Hermione sighed and made her way to the stable. She figured she would had to leave Troy before her sister became "too friendly" with it, and that included being "too friendly" with the Ithacan prince.

****

Hermione put her red cloak over her shoulders and dropped her book in her chamber. She was eager to get out. The queen already had given her a daily dose of embarrassing public scenes, in front of Harry no less.

Hermione's mind wandered over the queen's statement once more:

"Whatever methods of diplomacy or techniques that may require."

If she did not know any better, she would say the queen already knew of her rendezvous with Harry last night. But she could not, could she?

"Hey."

Hermione gasped as she came across Harry, already saddling his horse, his hunter green cloak already attached to his shoulders.

"Harry."

"Ready?"

"Uh?"

"Well come on now, you seriously did not think I would throw away our plans just because of Cassandra's constant bickering. Come on."

Hermione sighed, figuring out they would either talk while riding or once they were wherever Harry wanted to go. She walked towards him and he took her by her waist, mounting her into his black steed and swinging up behind her.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"I am riding with you. I told you that I would take it into consideration, remember?" He grinned.

Hermione sighed and leaned against Harry's chest without a second thought, being caught by surprise as he kissed her forehead.

They really had to talk about this, she thought as she put the hood of the cloak on her head.

If she was going to ride with the Trojan prince, she would be better off without being recognized.

Harry sighed as he kicked his steed to start the journey.

He was inexplicably drawn to the Spartan princess and although he was not sure where this might lead, they had to clarify what last night had meant. He had expressed his feelings toward the Spartan princess and although he was not sure where that might lead him, he was not going to turn back now.

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16. Smile in the Rain

Chapter 16: Smile in the Rain

A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews. I am sorry about Virginia. For some reason, I thought that was her name, so sorry about that. From now on, I will refer to her only as “Ginny.” This fic will be close to 30 chapters, so it might take a while to finish. We will continue to see Harry's and Hermione's mindsets as they get through their conflicting feelings. Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoy this one. Don't forget to review!

“Come in.”

Fleur entered Oliver's room and found him seated on his writing table, a quill on his hand. Whatever he was writing was almost at its finishing point however. He turned his head to look at her and his lips turned

into a broad smile.

“I could come back later. I did not know you were-” The last thing that Fleur had wanted was to interrupt.

“I am finished.” Oliver closed the parchment and stood up, taking Fleur into his embrace and brushing

her lips with his.

“To whom were you writing to?” Fleur asked curiously.

“Just to my parents. My mother goes crazy if I do not write her at least once a week. I cannot blame her though, I am next in line for the Ithacan throne. So, to what do I owe this surprise?”

“I am not sure. Let me think about it,” Fleur teased as Oliver pulled her into another kiss.

“Harry, damn you, show yourself!”

The couple broke away as they heard the queen's screeches.

“Is she always like that?” Fleur asked, annoyed that her quality time with the Ithacan prince was being unpleasantly interrupted. .

“Oh, she is just getting started. Where is Harry anyway?”

*****

“Harry pull over, give your horse a rest,” Hermione said.

They had already been riding for the better part of an hour and she was not sure if Harry was doing it on purpose to avoid the subject of their night together, or if she was just wishing that because she was currently lacking the nerve to address it.

“All right.” Harry followed Hermione's request and stationed his horse in a deep green field.

She would find out soon enough, it seemed.

He dismounted and assisted her in getting off. The horse neighed and went off to get his share of green food.

Harry took hold of Hermione's arm, pulling her closer to him and leaned his head to meet her lips, but she avoided him, his lips grazing her cheek softly instead. She sighed as he looked at her questioningly.

As far as he was concerned, they were finally alone; therefore he could kiss her.

Hermione however, got away from his embrace as soon as his arm loosened its hold on her and sat down in front of a lake, sighing. Without hesitation, Harry took a seat at her side.

“What is the matter Hermione?” he asked in a whisper. Had he done something to make her upset?

The princess passed a hand through her face and shifted her eyes at him as he hesitantly draped an arm around her and attempted to pull her closer to his chest.

“You know, you are not as cold as you look.” Hermione let out a hollow chuckle. Her impression of him had obviously changed dramatically after last night.

“I can be. With you however, is another matter. Well it should be anyway, after last night-”

“What is going on with you and Ginny?” Hermione snapped.

He could not expect to talk about last night without clearing that first. If there was something between Ginny and the man she had made love with, they might as well not even bother to address what had happened between them, must to her dismay, she hated to admit.

“There is nothing between me and her,” Harry admitted a little too fast for his liking.

However, even if he did not want to admit his feelings for Hermione (after last night, he thought they would be fairly obvious), that still would not make him like Ginny.

“There is no engagement, nor there will be. Cassandra just wants me to be with her because it is a good marriage in terms of a good blood line. I reckon she just does not want me to end up like Paris, falling for a random girl. Too late though,” he admitted.

At this statement, Harry felt Hermione tense up in his arms, for she had slowly, but surely, let him pull her against his chest.

“What do you mean?” she sputtered.

Truth be told, she had expected last night to mean nothing to him. She was not even sure of what it meant to her, or maybe she would not admit it, although the fact that it had been completely inappropriate might have had something to do with it.

But instead of answering her, Harry let his lips give her the answer she sought, giving her mouth a

passionate brush, which Hermione did not hesitate to return.

So much for inappropriate.

“Harry, about last night-” Hermione tried to tear her mouth away, to talk about the real consequences of their actions, politically, but Harry kept her lips under his.

“It will not have been as marvellous as tonight,” Harry whispered against her mouth.

“Harry…” This time, Hermione managed to get little distance between them, as they were both now

gasping for air. “About this morning.-”

“Hermione-”

“I do not want to be an obstacle to your decisions and I do not want you to think-” Hermione wanted to tell him that despite her inappropriate behaviour, she had not been with him in order to convince him to take the throne. However, she lost track of her words when she felt Harry's lips against the skin of her throat.

“Do not let Cassandra's words get to you. She just gets crazier as each day passes. I am with you because I want to and if Cassandra does not like it, it matters little to me. Nobody tells me what to do, not even her, so do not pay her more attention than she deserves.”

“Fine, but I stand by my word. I do not want to just meddle in your life and-” Hermione did not know where this was going, but she did know that she did not want to get in his way, especially when she still wanted him to take the throne and because by the way her task was designed, she could leave any day once her task was done.

And that is exactly what she intended to do.

Or at least that was what her head told her to do.

Unfortunately, the rational part of her mind was a little clouded at the moment.

“It is too late for that and you are not meddling, I want you there,” Harry admitted. He did not know where he was going with this, but of one thing he was sure: this was more than just lust.

“And I want to be there,” Hermione confessed, much to her horror, before she could stop herself. “But…” She attempted, unsuccessfully, to rectify her earlier response.

“But nothing. What is it that bothers you?”

“The possibility that you might get hurt on my account.”

“Why would I get hurt?”

“Oh, maybe because Spartans and Trojans do not mix well within our family tress, therefore, our rendezvous last night was a political disaster, and besides, it is kind of like a family curse-“

“Hermione, we will be fine. We can make this work, if you want to that is. I am willing to try. I do not want last night to turn to nothing. It meant something to me.”

Harry realized that his words had just given Hermione an enormous amount of power over him, something that he had not given to any woman before. But he could not stop himself. He had thought it was just an infatuation, but if it had been, it would have been over the minute he had gotten her into bed.

Needless to say, if that had happened, his heart would not be beating as madly as it was right now and he would not be looking longingly at Hermione's swollen lips.

“Harry-”Hermione was flattered, but although her heart was beating faster than her horse could gallop, her rationalized mind could not help but point out that an affair, for she was sure nobody in the castle could know, therefore it could not be called a relationship, would be ridiculously inappropriate, not to mention it would come with political consequences if anybody found out.

“Look, I promise you, if something does come up, I will tell you, but-”

Harry did not seem to want to let go, and her heart was begging her to stop complaining. She would be lying if did not admit that she wanted nothing more but to be in Harry's arms right now.

“So no secrets?” Hermione asked.

“No, no secrets.”

Harry cupped her face and kissed her once more. This time, Hermione did not hold back. She put her arms around his neck and intensified their mouths' entwinement. Harry circled his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

Suddenly, he felt Hermione's cheeks get cold with water drops. Harry thought with horror, that she was crying once again, before discovering that his own cheeks were tingling with water as well. He broke lip contact just as rain started to pour over their bodies.

“Talk about ruining the moment,” Harry cursed, but Hermione shut his lips with her index finger.

“Why does it have to be ruined? I will have you to keep me warm.”

Hermione resumed their kissing and Harry, suffice to say, was powerless to complain.

Hermione did not know what had possessed her, but at this point, her rationalizations were not going to tell her to stop. She was not sure where this might lead, but at the moment, she did not care. She wanted nothing more than to be in Harry's arms. She did not know exactly when and why she had started to like him like this, but now, it was too late to turn back.

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17. Blurt

A/N: I am sorry for the delay on this one guys. Things begin to get tense on this chapter as Hermione begins to face reality. I apologize for the mistakes and I am sorry that history does not get more attention in this fic. Those familiar with the story of Helen of Troy should be able to pick up things, but this is mostly historical fiction, a loosely based sequel of the movie “Helen of Troy,” with Sienna Guillory. I recommend that those of you interested take a peek at it; it is well worth it, but I don't know how much I can reveal without spoiling the movie, so I apologize. Any other questions or concerns, please feel free to tell me; I value your feedback. I am sorry for the book anachronism, but they had at least manuscripts, did they not? That is what I meant and I apologize; I know the printing press has not been invented at this point in history. But I hope it does not deter you from enjoying the story. Thanks for your reviews, and don't forget to leave me a note after this chapter!

Chapter 15: Blurt

“Whoa,” Harry commanded his horse to a halt. The impulse caused Hermione to completely lean against his embrace.

Harry was the first to mount off and he took Hermione by the waist in order for her to get down.

“It is almost dinner time. Take a warm bath and I will see you in the dining room.” Harry smiled as he

passed his hand through Hermione's damp hair. “Are you sure you are not cold?”

“I am fine. Well, until dinner time then.”

The couple embraced in a passionate kiss in the stable's darkness and although she was still very much

wet, Hermione felt pleasantly warm. Harry kissed her hand as soon as he was done with her lips before they continued their own ways.

Hermione was able to go to her room without further interruptions.

Harry however, was not so lucky.

“Harry!”

The Trojan heir, much to his annoyance, heard the queen's shrieks, which did not allow him get past the receiving room.

“Well, good evening to you too Aunt Cassandra.” Harry's voice was back to ice.

“Would you care to explain where you were all day?” Cassandra did not bother to lower her voice.

“Out. I am a big boy. I do not have a set time to arrive. What? You could not stir a cup of tea properly and could not find anyone to do it for you?”

“This is not funny! Out! Out, and you leave your new arrived fiancée all alone for the day! It is

preposterous! “

“She is not my fiancée, Aunt Cassandra. The fact that you want her to be is not going to make it so.

Get used to that.”

“It is a secure marriage. You would be sensible enough to do it if you would care about the Trojan legacy!”

“Newsflash, I do not. I am not going to marry someone because you wish it so or because Troy approves

it. When I marry someone, it will be because of love and not because a goddamn bloodline! I hope

that remains clear, because I am not going to repeat it again.”

“Your father would have been outraged!”

“My father is dead, again, he does not have a say in the matter,” said Harry calmly.

“So you would prefer to give up the throne for a fling instead of a good marriage?”

“I would not call it a fling and I will not have the throne. If I were my will would be done and

there would be nothing you could do about it, oh wait! I am not king and you still cannot do anything

about it!”

“You know, this type of behaviour got both your father and uncle killed.”

“Oh, do not start dear aunt. You will make me lose my appetite before dinner.”

“If you will not take the throne, at least leave a worthy successor!”

“I believe that is Hermione's job.”

“So you trust her with this?”

“Do you really care?” Harry turned around to face her. Cassandra had a determined look in her eyes.

“I care about Troy and I will not permit its ruination, if it is the last thing I do!”

“Well then, I suggest you start being nice.”

“The way you define nice?” Cassandra crossed her arms.

“What?”

“Is that why you do not want Ginny, because there is someone else that you desire right this minute?”

“The only thing I desire is to get away from you this second, Aunt Cassandra.”

Harry did not give any sign of emotion, but she knew better. Her gift of sight allowed her to

see things when no one else was aware of it. That was her gift or how she preferred to call it, curse, since childhood. If Harry wanted Helen's daughter, then she would make sure it would stay that way; simple desire.

****

“Hermione, it is about time!” Fleur surprised her sister in her room a second after she had closed the door.

“Fleur, you gave me a fright,” Hermione gasped.

“I am sorry; no, not really. So where were you?”

“Riding,” Hermione stated simply.

“Really? Your steed was here all day.” Fleur gave her a suspicious look.

“Then I suppose I was not riding my steed.”

“Aha! So where did you ride? No, scratch that, with whom?”

Hermione opened her mouth only to have another interruption at the door. Oliver came in.

“Oh Fleur, there you are! I thought you might be here. You forgot…” Oliver caught sight of Hermione; who gave him a thin smile.

”Oh, hi Hermione.”

“Good evening,” Hermione answered, “What did Fleur forget?”

“Her…here is your mantel.” Oliver gave Fleur her garment piece.

“Thank you.” Fleur smiled, “Although it would have given me another excuse to go to your room.”

“You do not need excuse to go-” Oliver quieted, feeling Hermione's eyes in him. Of course they would tell her, just not tonight. He wanted to talk to her alone first. “Well, see you at dinner then.”

Hermione turned to Fleur just as Oliver left.

“What was your mantel doing in Oliver's room?”

“It is getting late. Take a bath and I will see you at dinner.” Fleur took her leave as well.

Hermione sighed. Time for dinner.

****

Hermione made her way to the table, dressed in peach coloured attire with her pearl coloured mantel; her hair

brushed loosely to her shoulders. She took the seat across Harry, as always. Fleur took the seat next

to Oliver. The queen sat at the first seat of the table, Harry at her side and tonight, there was

somebody at Harry's side, Lady Ginny.

Normally, the dinner was to be carried in absolute silence, since they really would not divulge each other's thoughts, nor care about polite conversation. But Ginny was a peculiar guest.

“So Harry darling, where were you all day?” she asked, petting his arm.

“Riding,” Harry replied flatly.

“Ooh, I have always loved that black steed of yours. What is his name again?”

“Arrow.”

“That is right. Why did you not take me riding with you? I missed you dreadfully,” she cooed.

“I thought you did not like outdoors.”

“True, but I would have gone if it implied being with you. I hear the forest is a very nice…secluded

place,” she whispered seductively.

“Oh it is. You should go sometime.” Harry did not even bother to glance at her as he ate his dinner.

“As long as you go with me.”

“You are not a big nature girl,” he repeated.

“Of course I would prefer your room better.”

At this statement, Hermione's wine goblet collapsed noisily against the plate, the red liquid pouring all over the food.

“Good gracious Herminia, are you all right?” The queen appeared shocked.

“Hermione, your majesty, and I am fine, thank you; just a bit of clumsiness. “

“I will call my maid to get you another plate then,” the queen offered.

“Worry not, your majesty. Actually, I was hoping to be excused for the night. I am not very

Hungry. Perhaps exhaustion has gotten the better of me,” Hermione answered as casually as she could.

“Certainly, let me-”

“I will get my plate, your majesty. It is the least I can do since I ruined dinner with his highness's fiancée.

Do excuse me.” Hermione stood up and took her liquefied plate along with her empty goblet.

She passed directly behind Harry's seat, as the kitchen was just a few feet away from the table.

“My apologies again, lady Ginny.” Hermione cooed.

Harry turned a bit to the side. What was Hermione up to?

Ginny however, accepted the apology as though she deserved it.

“It is quite all right. Spartans and clumsiness, very well related,” she giggled.

“Maybe you are right…Oh! Oopsy!”

It looked as though Hermione tripped with Harry's seat. She sent the empty goblet to the table, but

the liquefied content of the plate landed on Ginny's red silk dress and Hermione made no effort to stop

it from spilling. She held onto Harry's seat while the plate spilled itself, still attached to her hand.

“Oh my God! Oh!” Hermione practically finished spilling the plate, while Ginny's screams awakened

everybody.

Harry turned back towards the table, a napkin covering his mouth. He could not stop laughing.

“Oh my goodness, I apologize Lady Ginny. Clumsy! Goddamn clumsiness!” Hermione threw the plate

purposely to the floor, the fine crystal clattering it to pieces.

“How dare you!” Ginny spat indignantly.

“I am so very dreadfully sorry! You should be more careful with that tongue of yours,” Hermione

whispered, stalking off.

The maids were silent. Everybody was trying to control their laughter as Ginny's shrieks continued.

“Well, do not just stand there! Help her clean up!” Cassandra shouted to her servants, who

immediately aided the general's daughter.

“I uh, am going to check on my sister. See if she is all right.” Fleur stood up, still stifling her laughter,

and left.

“Well, dinner was certainly a spectacle.” Oliver sniggered.

“What is so funny?” Cassandra demanded.

“She really should be more careful with silk.” Oliver chuckled, before Cassandra threw him an `I will kill you if you do not shut up' look. “Well, I am off to rest. Big hunting trip tomorrow. Good night.”

Harry was left with his aunt again, but he too had night plans.

“I will see you tomorrow, Aunt Cassandra.”

“What, you are not even going to escort Ginny to her room?” Cassandra appeared outraged.

“I would not dream of it. I would not want to spill anything else. Good night.”

****

“Hermione?” Fleur opened the door to her sister's room. Hermione was seated on her bed, already in her

lingerie and robe, reading her mother's journal again.

She looked at her sister, smiled, and proceeded her reading.

“Everything all right?” Fleur asked.

“Marvellous, why?” Hermione did not stop eying the journal.

“I did not buy that “clumsiness” act.”

“Well, it is true, she should guard her tongue,” Hermione replied calmly.

“What part should she guard Hermione? The part of Spartans and clumsiness or the part where she stated

she wanted to bed Harry?” Hermione's journal closed in a flash and she gave her sister a wide-eyed look

Suffice to say, that gave Fleur the answer she sought. “Thought so.”

“Fleur-”

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, before it opened.

“Herm…oh…” Harry attempted to close the door once more, but Fleur held it open while Hermione

sprang out of bed.

“Worry not, your highness. I was just leaving. We will resume the conversation later. I should get to bed anyway.” Fleur strolled past Harry, making her way to her room as Harry entered her sister's.

Hermione put the journal on her bedside table as she looked at him and smiled.

“Is Ginny all right?” Hermione asked casually.

“She is probably still shrieking.” Harry chuckled. “What was that all about anyway?”

“It was an honest accident. If she wants to blame someone, she should blame that tongue of hers.”

Hermione crossed her arms, sighing, as Harry approached her grinningly.

“Mm, are you jealous?”

“Should I be?” Hermione's voice was a whisper as Harry took over her lips.

Hermione's mouth opened under his as her arms circled his neck, their bodies enclosing.

“I am not certain. After last night, this afternoon, should you be?” Harry whispered against her neck as

they collided against her bed.

“Assure me then.”

Their lips entwined in raw passion as Harry felt only too keen to grant her request for that night.

Groans and moans could be heard around the room as the moon's sparks were put to rest for the night.

Harry had been right. She could not have experienced a better night. Their lovemaking had not been as

hesitant as it had been last night. It was caring and gentle, but passionate all the same, which brought

her to question her feelings for Harry. What did she feel towards him? What did he feel towards her?

Was it mere attraction?

Harry took these thoughts away from her mind as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, placing her against his chest.

“Did I assure you?” he whispered against her ear.

Hermione's smile faltered as her mind replayed the image of Ginny, but more specifically, this afternoon:

“If I did not know better, I swear Agamemnon fancies…”

Then Harry's voice had intervened.

“Agamemnon? Is that bastard still alive?”

“Harry?” she felt herself call out his name automatically.

”What is it?” he asked gently.

“What was all that with Agamemnon this afternoon? You asked-”

She felt Harry tense immediately around her and his arms dropped.

“He has not tried anything on you, has he?” Harry had raised his voice. She glanced down at him.

“What? Why?” her voice was concerned.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Harry-”

“Hermione, please -”

“Harry, we agreed. No secrets. So, tell me what is bothering you, please.”

“He is the one that killed Paris,” Harry spat hastily, but Hermione knew that was not it.

“I know that. You know I know that, that is not it. Tell me Harry.”

But nothing could have prepared her for what she heard next.

“He…was the one that raped your mother.”

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18. Arrangement

A/N: Thanks for your reviews. I hope you enjoy this one! Please remember that Hermione, although she is in “Spartan” territory (Troy is “controlled” by Menelaus who is in turn controlled by Agamemnon, albeit indirectly,) is a woman, and although she is in Spartan territory, Cassandra knows that Hermione is not queen yet, therefore, Hermione cannot fully control her in what she believes to be her own land. In any case, she is not worried about the consequences because she knows that Harry will hopefully end up with the throne and if not, Hermione probably will, and at that point, she will most likely be exiled, so she might as well make the most of what's left, and she will not agree to directly submit to Spartan domination. Remember that although Troy is controlled, all governmental decisions, or most of them in any case, are left to Cassandra. Sparta at this point considers Troy a conquered territory, so all that it would be interested in is tribute and a ruler who can keep collecting it while suppressing possible rebellion, nothing more. So Hermione cannot do much to control Cassandra as much as Cassandra can do things under the guise of controlling her domain until she can put hopefully Harry on the throne. All of you know however, know that that is the last thing in Hermione's mind at the moment. Hope this clears up a few things that came up in your reviews. Any other questions, feel free to leave them along with your review. Thanks!!

Chapter 16; Arrangement

“My lord?” the royal advisor approached the king of Sparta, who stood up at his arrival.

“What is it?”

“Sir Ronald has arrived, your majesty,” the advisor announced.

“Good. Send him in then.” The royal advisor retired to comply with his new orders, just as

Agamemnon entered the throne room.

“What events brother?” he asked in his cold, superior tone.

“Sir Ronald arrived.” Menelaus did not even look at him.

“My, my, all too soon since your daughter has not arrived,” Agamemnon pointed out.

“She will soon enough.”

“Has she written?”

“She has never written me in all her previous life, nor spoken to me except when it is absolutely

necessary. What makes you think she is going to write me now?” Menelaus's voice was calm.

“Because you command it fool! This is not a stupid hide and seek game, these are royal matters. She

went to Troy for a task, nothing more. It shall stay that way. You control it, not her,” Agamemnon's

voice rose as his anger came out.

“And what makes you think that she is not attending to such task?”

“Because if that was the case, she should have arrived by now.”

Menelaus turned to look at the visitor the minute Ron entered.

“Greetings Menelaus, king of Sparta, and Sir Agamemnon, high king of Mycenae.” Ron took a bow.

“Sir Ronald, you are most welcomed indeed.” Menelaus stepped down from his throne, embracing

Ron. “How is your mother?”

“With health.”

“I trust things are well in your land?” Agamemnon intervened, catching Ron's attention.

“As well as one can hope for, thank you. But now, to business. I did not spend a week on a filthy ship

so I can talk about my mother. Where is my prize?”

“Hermione is presently…detained,” Agamemnon answered.

“Detained?” Ron frowned. ”What can possibly detain such a…lovely damsel?”

“Troy.” Agamemnon's lips curled up into a smile.

“Pardon?”

“Troy, Sir Ronald. I am afraid she is there on my brother's behalf. But I believe it is about time she is

brought back to Sparta. I mean, we would not like to keep her fiancée waiting, now would we?”

“Agamemnon, if she is not back-” Menelaus tried to intervene.

“If she is not back, then we will bring her back, do you not agree Sir Ron?” Agamemnon proposed.

“Absolutely,” Ron answered.

“Go to Troy? You cannot just go without her knowing and consent!” Menelaus interrupted again.

“Relax brother, I already wrote to her, out of courtesy in any case. Her consent is of little value to me. She is a woman after all,” Agamemnon replied.

“So, when do we set sail?” Ron asked, interest visible in his eyes.

“Tonight.”

****

Harry got out of bed at dawn that morning, careful not to wake Hermione up, for she had

barely had any sleep. Her face still showed evidence of last night's tears.

He put on his hunting apparel and took his bow and sword. It was a gloomy morning, so it would be a challenging hunt, just as he liked them.

He put his hunter green cloak on and approached the bed once more, where Hermione still laid

immobile Harry brushed the curls away from her face and planted a soft kiss on her pursed lips,

leaving shortly afterwards. The door had not completely closed when Hermione's nutshell eyes popped

open.

She had felt Harry's warm lips over hers not so long ago and that was enough to keep her from bed.

But something else occupied her mind at the moment: Agamemnon. How could, how could he?

“He is a miserable bastard, that is why,” Hermione muttered among curses. Her body just shivered at the thought.

How could her father possibly allow this? Wait a second, Menelaus knew? She was not sure; but she

suspected as much nevertheless. After all, he had always been Agamemnon's pawn, but allow this?

Harry knew. How the hell did Harry know? Well, one thing was for sure; she could not do a damn

thing about it now and she did not want to. She did not want to think about it for another minute. No,

she needed to get out. She wanted out, no Sparta, no castle, no Cassandra. Hermione took hold of her

garments and stormed out of the room.

****

“Oliver?” Harry crashed into the Ithacan heir to the throne as he made his way to breakfast. Oliver however,

although already dressed, was making his way out of…Fleur's chamber?

“Harry, fine morning, is it not?”

“Actually it is not, gloomy weather outside.”

“Oh well, it promises to be a fine day nevertheless.” Oliver smiled.

“Why where you…? That is Fleur's chamber,” Harry pointed out.

“I know,” Oliver grinned, suddenly aware of what he had just said, “I uh mean-”

“You fancy her?”

“How do you know?” Oliver whined.

“Newsflash, you just got out of her room. Is she awake?”

“No. She is not an early riser.”

“Mm. What are you going to tell Hermione?”

“I will tell her. I might as well do it right now.” Oliver set out to Hermione's room, but Harry held him

by his arm.

If he only knew that Hermione was not in her room.

“Not now! I mean, she is likely still asleep. You do not want to wake her up, do you?”

“No. Ah, you are right. I will do it after hunting.”

“All right then. Accompany me to breakfast?”

****

Hermione decided she needed a little fresh air. She decided that today was not duty day, since that would remind her of Sparta and her mood sufficed to kill every Trojan in town or give them, literally, a fate worse than death. So she put her bathing attire and decided to spend the day in the lake of the palace's interior gardens. She combed her wavy hair into a bun and strolled down the stairs.

****

“Hunting?” Cassandra asked Harry for the second time. This was just outrageous.

“Yes auntie dear, hunting.”

“But that would mean leaving Ginny alone for the second time!” Cassandra exclaimed.

“Oh, right. Make that a pleasurable hunting day.” Harry smiled.

“You cannot treat her-”

“Actually Cassandra, yes I can. I am the heir to the throne and this is my castle, is it not?” Harry

stood up.

“I thought you were not taking the throne.”

“I am still thinking among those same lines, but who knows? Fate works in mysterious ways.

Farewell.”

“Bye Cassandra.” Oliver stood up and went after Harry, leaving the Trojan queen quite disgusted.

****

“Good morning, your majesty,” Hermione greeted her seconds later, helping herself to green ripe grapes.

“Well I am glad the morning has been good for you,” Cassandra spat sarcastically.

“Excuse me.” Hermione walked away, cursing the queen under her breath.

Why did she have to be so mean? Anyway, it did not matter. She would be out of there soon anyway.

Hermione was brought back to reality as she tripped into Harry, leaning directly into his embrace.

Harry held her instinctively, circling his arms tightly around her.

“Hermione, are you all right?” came Oliver's concerned voice.

“ I am fine.” Hermione tore away from Harry and shifted a thin smile at him. “My apologies

your highness.”

“Not necessary princess, I am the one who should be more careful,” Harry answered gently, leaving

Oliver dumbstruck. Harry had never really apologised to anybody; not to mention he was usually cold.

Hermione looked at him and smiled.

“Have a happy hunting trip.” She strolled down to the interior gardens.

“Harry? Let us go,” Oliver said. “Hunting trip awaiting us.”

Harry sighed and went behind the Ithacan prince. At least Hermione looked like she felt better. And,

rest assured, he would do what he could to help her make her feel better, after the hunting trip.

****

Hermione took a deep breath, after emerging from the fresh waters of the lake. She was right. Taking

a dip in the lake was just what she needed to clear her mind, even if it was just for a little while. She

would take care of her task; but then again, she was in no real hurry to return to Sparta.

What would become of Harry then?

She splashed water in her face to scare away that thought from her mind. But it was a truth she had to face. She had allowed herself…to fall for him.

Did this mean love?

Fortunately for her, Fleur came over and interrupted her thoughts.

“Hermione,” she called.

“In here,” she directed her towards the lake. “What is it?”

“Well, good morning to you too sister dear.”

“Hello. Did you want something?”

“This arrived for you.” She held out a closed parchment.

“What is it?” Hermione frowned.

“I do not know. But it looks like Agamemnon's handwriting.”

Hermione's face literally went red with rage.

“Hermione-” Fleur held a concerned look on her face.

“What!”

“I told you. It looks like Agamemnon's handwriting,” Fleur stated simply.

“Take it away,” she whispered fiercely.

“Pardon me?”

“Take it away! I do not want to read it! No, I do not want you laying hands on that either. Give it!”

Hermione sprang from the lake faster than a speeding arrow, took the crumpled parchment and stormed inside the castle, still fully dampened, not having bothered to pass her cloth through her bathing attire.

“Harmonia, what the hell…” the queen's screeches were unsurprisingly heard, but Hermione was not in

the mood.

“Hermione!” Cassandra tried to hold her, but Hermione kept going straight to the castle's main fireplace,

which was, by a slight misfortune, located in the throne-room.

Hermione was out of herself. How dare he write to her? He had absolutely no authority over her,

and she would let him know that fact loud and clear once back in Sparta.

She was so angry that she even took the liberty to enter the throne room, without even knocking.

Once there, she went directly to the fireplace, which was crackling with open flames. She crumpled the

parchment once more, tearing it to pieces and threw them roughly to the orange heat.

“Go to hell, you bastard! Oh God I swear I will kill you with my bare hands! How dare you! “

Hermione shouted louder than she had ever done before. It was an anger waiting to be let out and she

was sick of pretending.

“ Uh, `Mione-”

“You can rot in hell and Mycenae can go up your arse too! Bastard!”

“Hermione?”

“Uh?” She felt Harry's gentle voice. Great, he was back from the hunting trip! Finally! She did not

know why, but right now she felt like kissing him madly.

“Harry!” She turned around, ready to hug him.

But there was somebody else behind him, there were some-bodies …

Harry cleared his throat as Hermione's face turned considerably paler. She was still in her bathing attire, soaking wet and her hair…do not go there.

She tried her best to smile at the two people behind Harry, wearing Ithacan attire and gazing at her with

a puzzled, almost amused impression.

“And Odysseus and Penelope too. Good (gulp) evening.”

****

Fleur was walking towards the dining room as it was close to dinning time when she felt somebody

take hold of her waist. She let out a gasp as a pair of lips claimed her own.

“Good evening,” Oliver greeted her.

“Back from your hunting trip, are you? That was very nice commanding presence act.” Fleur smiled seductively.

“What can I say? I aim to please.” He took a turn on the skin of her neck.

“Oliver…” she sighed with pleasure.

“What? I missed you.”

Their lips met again in an intense kiss as their bodies grew closer against one another. Fleur let out a low

moan as Oliver's tongue entwined with her own and she had to tighten her grip on him, because her

knees were going numb. Wait a minute! Why was this happening?

She had never felt that way about anyone before, even though she had previously flirted with a number of guys before coming to Troy.

Unfortunately or fortunately, however Fleur chose to look at it, her mind could not answer her, for their quality time together was unexpectedly interrupted.

“Master Oliver!”

Oliver and Fleur broke the kiss only to see they had company.

“Oh, hello Pookie.” Oliver smiled.

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19. The Son of Hector

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys! This one is winding down as you can probably notice. But the tension is only just beginning. I will do whatever possible not to make this another “Helen of Troy.” It is different and that is not my plan; however, you will find similarities. Do not hesitate to review! Love you all!

Chapter 17: The son of Hector

“Well, huh, I must say, it is a surprise to see you. Here, of all places! But of course, you would come

here, because Oliver is here, ha! What a coincidence!” Hermione could not stop chuckling awkwardly.

This day could not possible get any worse. Oops, wrong again. “But a welcomed one!” she added,

noticing the king's and queen's slightly annoyed faces. “Oh, oh no.”

Hermione passed her hand through her face. As far as she was concerned, diplomacy had gone not so well, to say an understatement. Luckily, she had known Penelope and Odysseus for quite some time, so hopefully, they would not think much of it.

Her hand shook as it went down again and she became aware that she was trembling. Through her embarrassment, she had almost forgotten that she was still wet.

Harry went over to her and put his hunter green cloak over her shoulders.

She shivered slightly, although not from coldness when his body clashed hers, but from the closeness between them.

Hermione did not have time to savour the moment however, because as soon as his hands let go of the cloak, , Cassandra entered the throne room. Harry immediately put space between himself and the Spartan

princess as Hermione now put both her hands against her face. The queen was the last person that she wanted to see at this point.

“Odysseus, Penny! How good to see you!” Cassandra went over to hug Penelope.

“It is Penelope, Cassandra, dear.” Penelope smiled politely, but Hermione could tell that the Ithacan

queen was not comfortable by the presence of the Trojan ruler.

“Yes, yes, of course! Well, I assume you are here to see Oliver. I will fetch my servant to call

upon him.”

It was then that the queen noticed Harry's presence, as well as Hermione's.

“Harry dear! Good hunting trip I trust?” She shifted her eyes into Hermione's peculiar cloak. “I must

say, Hermione, that cloak is most familiar.”

Hermione lowered her head uncomfortably.

Fortunately, someone else broke the silence as she opened the door.

It was Pookie, Oliver's nanny, followed by Oliver and Fleur.

“Master! Mistress! I found him!” Pookie exclaimed excitedly.

Odysseus looked at his son proudly, while Penelope beamed at him.

“Hello father.” Oliver shook his father's hand while Penelope enveloped him in a tight, very motherly

hug.

“Mother please!”

“I apologize Oliver honey, but we miss you so much in Ithaca!” Penelope admitted.

“Enjoying your stay I hope?” Odysseus asked.

“I would say so! He has got himself a lovely maiden!” Pookie stated.

Odysseus frowned and so did Hermione, while Fleur's face went as red as it could get.

“I beg your pardon?” Odysseus had to ask.

“I found him sharing a kiss with this charming damsel. I would say she looks so very much like Helen-”

Hermione coughed, shifting a look at her sister, who was smiling, although her head was still lowered,

Odysseus looked at his son in amusement, while Penelope brought her hands to her mouth, Oliver just

passed his hand through his hair in an awkward manner.

“Really? Well Oliver, why not introduce us to your mysterious lady then?” Odysseus suggested.

“Well father, this…is Fleur.” Oliver took Fleur's hand and brought her forward. “Fleur, these are

my parents, Odysseus and Penelope of Ithaca.”

Odysseus took Fleur's hand and kissed it.

“Pleasure milady.” He took a look at her face. “My God. She looks exactly like Helen…if she-”

“I am her daughter,” Fleur answered.

“Are you? Well, Hermione, you never told us of any siblings.”

“She was not born when you parted to your country,” Hermione replied, giving her sister a fierce look.

This was what she was afraid of. She could only hope that Fleur loved Oliver as much as Oliver loved her and this was not just one of her ploys to command attention.

“Oh, I care not of what parentage she is as long as she keeps my little Ollie happy!” Penelope

embraced Fleur this time, but unlike Oliver, Fleur welcomed the hug, returning it fully. Her mother had never hugged her, since she had died when she was still little. “Welcome to the family Fleur.”

Fleur's eyes widened in an instant, so did Hermione's.

“I beg your pardon?” Fleur was thunderstruck. What did this mean? The queen was not actually implying...?

But before Penelope could repeat it for her, they were called forth to attend dinner.

****

Dinner was filled with laughter. It was like no other, much to their enjoyment, and Hermione was

pleasantly dry now, having changed into a live violet coloured gown. She took the chair by Harry's

side while Penelope and Odysseus sat across them, by Cassandra's side. Oliver was by his mother's side, Fleur beside him. Ginny, after Hermione's incident the night before, had declined to attend.

After dinner, Oliver went for a talk with his father while the other guests settled into their rooms. Hermione

decided to talk with Fleur tomorrow, as it was not polite to bring matters to one's attention on

a night that was greeted by guests' arrival, so she went directly to her room.

****

Hermione sat down on a satin decorated chair so she could go back to reading her mother's journal.

Suddenly however, Harry appeared on her thoughts, possessing her mind. She could not read anymore. Her memory was filled by the sweet feeling of his caresses and suddenly, she longed to feel him again. She did not

care right now about Sparta nor anything else, just him.

And just in time, he entered her room. He got behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“Hello,” he answered in a gentle voice, lifting her from her seat and bringing her to meet his lips.

“How was the hunting trip?” She looked at him as her hands took a road trip over his chest.

“Good. But I never got to give you a proper evening greeting, although I was most tempted to do so

when you walked soaked into the throne room.” Harry grinned.

Hermione hit him playfully.

“Harry! “ She appeared undignified.

“What? Are you saying that you would have objected?”

“Well, it is not too late, is it?” Hermione whispered seductively.

Harry pulled her tightly against him, claiming her lips intensely. Hermione moaned as her body awoke to the feel of his touch.

Harry moved to the skin of her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses over it as he removed Hermione's gown from her body.

Hermione let her hands slide under his tunic and suddenly, she was in bed and Harry's clothes , as well as here own, were discarded all over her room. Her lips travelled over his chest as another night consumed by passion awaited them.

****

“Hello.” Oliver entered Fleur's room as she was brushing her hair.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“I hope my parents did not embarrass you.” His face grew red.

“They did not. They are nice.” Fleur approached him, kissing his lips softly.

“Fleur, can I have a brief word with you?” he pleaded.

“Sure. What is it” She let her hands travel under his tunic and she felt his muscles contract

at her touch.

“I just have to tell you. My feelings for you have gotten deep inside my heart and I cannot control

them anymore…I just…”

“Oliver, what are you saying?” She caressed his cheek as he took a strand of her soft blonde hair, but

her hand immediately came to a halt when she heard his next statement.

“I want you to come to Ithaca with me.”

****

Hermione sighed as she collapsed against Harry's chest. The prince of Troy kissed her forehead softly,

wrapping his arms around her.

“What is so amusing?” he asked as he heard her soft laughter,

“Well, I was just thinking about your mother's face when she finds out about us.”

“Who?”

“Your mother, Cassandra. I am sure that she will not be happy that you chose me over Ginny, even if I...”

“Hermione, Cassandra is not my mother,” Harry said, and immediately felt Hermione tense up.

“What?”

“My mother died giving birth to me.”

“But…you are Troy's heir.” She glanced up at him.

“I am, but not by Cassandra,” he answered.

“What…Who are you then?” Hermione's face was clouded with confusion, possibly frightened.

Harry brought a hand to her cheek, caressing it softly. As expected, Hermione sunk into his caress.

“I am Harry, son of Hector of Troy.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hector of Troy? Cassandra's and Paris's brother?” Hermione rolled over to her side. “Is something

wrong?”

Hermione shook her head. Truth being she could not find her voice; so she had no other option whatsoever if she wanted to get the message across. There was one tiny detail: the room was covered in darkness, so her head was not visible. Suffice to say, Harry did not get the message.

“Hermione, I am still the same. I am just from a different parent; that is all.”

The Spartan princess turned around, catching his lips swiftly.

“Good night Harry.”

That seemed to steady him, for he held her tightly against him, falling sleep seconds after.

Good for him….

There had never been a worse night in Hermione's life. Actually, worse night did not quite cover it. It was an understating bad wakeful night

Harry, son of Hector of Troy; whom Achilles had killed, no, not killed; slaughtered. This

Would not have come to Hermione's attention so quickly and stressfully if, sure, she would have felt

sorry for the poor lad, but the problem was Achilles's progeny and the fact that she was supposed to be

engaged to…it. Yes, `it', for Hermione was not even sure if he was a human being. No, scratch that.

She was sure he was not.

Wait! Hold up!

Engaged?

Then what the hell was she doing in the prince of Troy's bed!

It was then that her mind came up with a starling realization….

“I love him.”

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20. Rude Awakening

A/N: Sorry for the delay guys; graduation is coming up. But thank you for your patience. I hope this chapter makes it up to you. I had a review asking why Hermione did not know who Harry really was and that comes up in this chapter; it was intentional. I had the same experience. I met my friend's aunt and my friend told me various times for various days who exactly we were meeting. She called her Aunt Linda all the time and when I finally met her, I said “You have a really wonderful daughter.” Suffice to say both my friend and her aunt were very amused and her aunt said “Oh! I'm not her mother!” and neither of them let it go at all that night. So yes, if you are distracted enough, it can happen. She really did treat my friend like the daughter she never had though.

Angst is coming, so be warned. Also, someone nominated this story for the Unknowable Room best AU Fic category in their fic competition. I just want to say that it is a great honour, so thank you. I am glad you are enjoying the fic. Don't hesitate to review!

Chapter 18: Rude Awakening

Hermione got up as soon as the first ray of sunlight hit her eyes. She grabbed her tunic and left;

Harry still in his peaceful slumber.

She had to comply with her original duties; the ones that made her come here before Harry had made

her stay. Those duties were still in her agenda and it was better to take care of them, before the

duties came to take care of her.

She put on a pearl coloured gown and wrapped her hair in a ponytail, going down for a fast breakfast.

But who was she kidding? There was no way the queen would allow her to make for a fast, light

breakfast, not without her usual dirty talk first and usually with it went Hermione's appetite.

“Good morning, Hermione.” Cassandra's tone hit Hermione like a stone, making her stand still, her

body cold as ice.

Had she addressed her by her name? The only time Cassandra had previously done that, it had been with a voice full of sarcasm. This time however, the queen's voice was cold, hard, and steady; the way it actually was, so she assumed this time, there would be no sarcasm involved in the message with which she intended to take Hermione's appetite away with that morning.

Hermione turned around, attempting to at least put a fake smile, failing miserably.

“Good morning, your majesty.”

“Oh please, do call me by my first name; the occasion seems proper enough.”

Hermione's eyes opened wide. What was going on?

“Certainly, uh, Cassandra.”

“Tell me, did you sleep well last night?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was just asking if you got your rest. It is something every ruler must be certain of acquiring.”

“Yes, I did. Thank you for your concern,” Hermione lied, but the queen really did not need to know her personal business, especially when it involved the queen's nephew.

She shuddered. How could she have not known? She was certain that she had heard Harry refer to the queen as his aunt before. Why could she not put two and two together? And she was sure that she had to be briefed in the heir's actual lineage before departing Sparta. Why had she not paid attention?

Well, she had to admit with defeat, the Spartan matter had more to do with the fact that she wanted to get out of her father's sight as soon as possible. Moreover, she had been so outraged at the prospect of her father putting his undesirable duties on her that she honestly had not cared about what exactly she had to do. She wanted to find the prince; it did not matter to which parent he belonged, and get it over with. Besides, she had been much more concerned about coming to terms with her mother's past than with her diplomatic present.

That had changed of course, the minute she had started watching Harry not as the heir, but as someone who made her heart skip a beat whenever she was around him and suffice to say, all thoughts of her actual royal duties concerning Harry had died the night she had offered herself to him so carelessly. And now, it was too late to put what should have been such a trivial matter of parentage into consideration. Harry was the heir, he had to take the throne, and she had to leave as soon as possible, no matter how much her heart was protesting.

She briefly wondered what Harry might have thought when she expressed that she literally did not know who he was when she clearly should have, not just because she was sleeping with him, but because such diplomatic knowledge was vital to her Trojan mission.

He probably thought that his original prediction was right: that she was nothing but the spoiled daughter of Helen whose reluctance to come to Troy had to do with a fear of dirtying her attire; although she did not have to worry about that now because she did not have to wear her garments.

But her heart outrageously disagreed and she had to admit that, just as it had for her, and although nothing could come out of it, she hoped that in the brief course of time that they were together, this had turned personal for Harry too, as well as physical.

But then, if it could not go anywhere, why would she hope that?

Before she could ponder any longer, the queen banished her thoughts away.

“You did? Good. I must express I was deeply concerned.” Oh, the riddles.

“What?”

“Well, I took the liberty to pass around Harry's room at midnight, and he was not there. Then I went

by yours-”

“Why were you in my room?” Hermione's nervousness was turning slowly to anger. Unwise choice.

“Do calm down, my dear. I was simply going to ask if you had received your uncle's parchment.”

“I did, although it is not of your concern to ask such thing, your majesty. You already know why I am

here.”

“Yes I do. Although I can see that is not the reason why you are staying.”

Hermione's face became as pale as the first rays of sunlight in a clear new day.

“Wha-”

“Tell me, how does it feel to be Harry's whore Hermione?”

****

“Ithaca? He wanted her to go to Ithaca? Why? Could she? Did she want to?

Fleur was not even sure as to what to think anymore. Sure, it had been fun, very much fun, but she did not even imagine that it would go that far. More importantly; did she feel the same? She had never loved anyone

before; why should now be any different?

Fleur got out of her currently empty bed, for she had been speechless when Oliver had mentioned his request and consequently, he had been forced out of the room.

But she had reason to do it. He had no right to ask that of her. Had she ever given him any reason as to want to spend the rest of her life with him? Had she wanted to give it to him? Fleur got a fast bath, putting on the first outfit she found.

“Hermione. I need Hermione.”

Wait just a minute. If she knew her sister, she would send her back to Sparta with her face on her

horse's arse. She had been seeing the prince of Ithaca behind her back. She definitely would not get out

alive of this one. Despite the grateful distraction that Oliver's parents had presented last night, Fleur had not missed her sister's fierce looks when it became clear that Oliver believed that the blonde princess was his.

“I still need her.”

****

“I…” Hermione could not find her voice. Indeed, this was something she had not expected.

“Thought I would not find out, did you, you little piece of work? “

“I …”

“What is it that you want from him? You want the throne, do you not? You will put him on the throne,

so you can control him like a puppet? Yes, that is what you want. Agamemnon finally regains

control of Troy!

“No…”

“Oh, I know what you are thinking. `That is not true, I care about Harry. I love him'. True, he is

geographically desirable, if you want to put it that way, but as I said some time ago, the apple does not

fall far from the tree and a thing like you could not love. You are just out to get whatever you desire,

damn the consequences and Troy is your next meal, Harry the appetizer. Well, I will not allow that!

Over Troy's dead body I will allow some Spartan trash control of my country!”

“Shut up!” Hermione choked back her sob.

She could not believe it. By now, the queen was a blur of black hair, for her teary eyes did not see straight.

“You cannot and will not address me in such a manner! Troy is Spartan property and you cannot stay with the throne Cassandra! Your judgement will tear Troy down, Harry with it! You think I want Troy? Yes, your ambition says it all, but I would never do that to Harry. I-”

“Would never hurt him?” Cassandra took the words right out of Hermione's mouth. “Well,

you are sleeping with him; have been for a while now. Does he know you have a fiancée waiting for

you in Sparta? The son of his father's killer?” Hermione was speechless. “No, did not think so.

Oh. I know what you are wondering. How does this old woman know these things about me? Well, I

must say I have never been respected for it. Some say I am insane, others bored, but I, am a Seer my

dear. Yes, that is what I am. Do not worry, nobody believes it, but now you know. Now you know

that I know everything that happened between you and Harry. But do not worry Hermione, you will not hurt my nephew, because he does not care about you. You are just a nice thing to pass the time with. But when he becomes king, with Ginny by his side, he will not even remember your name. There is a difference between love and desire, my dear, and desire is the only thing you will provoke in men while your Helen's beauty lasts. No one could ever love a thing like you, Hermione. You better get used to it. Your beauty is a curse. It killed your mother, it will kill you as well.”

Hermione's eyes drowned in tears. This could not be. This was not happening.

“Am I interrupting something?” Harry's voice echoed through the dining hall.

Ironically, he was the last person that Hermione wanted to see at the moment, no matter that just last night she longed to both see and feel him.

“Harry! Good morning darling!” Cassandra smiled at him while Hermione sniffled, trying to wipe

away the tears as quickly as possible.

However, they did not go unnoticed by Harry.

“Is something wrong?” Harry crossed his arms as he approached Hermione's trembling body.

His hand had barely touched her shoulder when she suddenly moved away from his reach.

“Excuse me.” Hermione hurriedly took her leave.

“Is she sick? What did you do?” Harry glared at his aunt, his face unable to hide the concern he felt.

“Nothing. I just told her that her uncle will be arriving tomorrow, along with a few companions.

Tomorrow she will leave.”

Harry flinched as he heard Hermione's body collapse on the floor.

“She is leaving already?” This was something he definitely was not expecting.

“Of course she is Harry. You did not expect her to stay here until the end of time did you?” Cassandra

laughed. To Harry, this was no laughing matter and she knew that. “Why do you ask?”

His answer however, took her by surprise, Harry's emerald eyes gleaming with determination.

“Has she chosen your successor yet?”

****

“Hermione! Are you all right?” Oliver took hold of her shoulders, pulling her up from the

cold floor, her sobs wetting his neat brown attire. “What is wrong?” He attempted to comfort her.

“He…she…I just…” Hermione's tears got the better of her and she suddenly lost her voice over to the

sobs.

Oliver pulled her against him as her sobs became louder.

“You will be all right. Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” he ventured, hoping to distract her from her whatever was distressing her.

Hermione put her hand over her face and wiped what tears she could away, actually grateful for the distraction.

“Oh? What about?”

“About…Fleur.” Hermione became aware that Oliver was no longer looking at her and turned around.

Her blonde sister seemed to be frozen into place.

“I will just uh…come back later.” Fleur strolled away.

“What is going on Oliver?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing! I just…asked her to go to Ithaca with me.”

****

“I…do not know,” Cassandra admitted.

“Yes, you would not, would you?” Harry's voice was no longer gentle.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing Aunt Cassandra, it is just that you are so concerned about your own plans that you are not even aware of the Trojan people's needs. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to see Hermione on the matter.”

“Don't you dare go back to that whore!”

Cassandra's words held Harry to his spot. He turned around to glare at her, his face full of rage.

“Excuse me?”

Right now, Harry was resisting the urge to punch his aunt.

“You heard me! Troy needs a crowned king, not a manipulated fool! So your stupid useless affair

stops right here and now Harry!”

“You called her a whore?” Harry's breathing was at a shortening supply.

“I only told her what needed to be said! She is nothing more than that!”

“And you are nothing more than a croaked old hag despised with her own life. Do not, ever, address

Hermione like that neither on this castle nor in this country, ever. Is that clear?”

“What? Are you actually going to tell me that you feel something for that?”

“That is not your concern, and for your information, she is more capable of handling that

throne than you will ever be.”

“So, you are just going to throw your father's legacy away? Just like that? You would give Troy up for

a Spartan?”

Harry gulped, his face motionless. He had made up his mind.

“Yes.”

****

“Fleur.” Hermione entered her sister's room. She was presently seated, looking over a parchment.

“Oh, Hermione.” She looked over to her and smiled. “Are you all right?”

“I have been better. Did you know that Agamemnon will be here by tomorrow?” Hermione asked.

The truth was she had tripped with her garment as soon as she had heard Cassandra say to the man who currently owned her heart that her uncle was coming to pick her up.

“Yes. That was in the parchment I gave you. Did you not read it?”

Hermione sighed.

“I must have burned it before I actually thought about that fact,” she admitted.

“What is the matter Hermione?”

Although Fleur was referring to Hermione's mood even though she had not seen the queen's spectacle, Hermione was not going to focus on herself. Although she knew that her sister knew about Harry, she preferred to keep most details to herself, especially because what Harry and she had could not go anywhere.

“Did Oliver ask you to go to Ithaca with him?”

Fleur's face went the exact same colour as her parchment. She clearly was not expecting that Oliver would actually talk to her sister about the issue.

“He told you?”

“Did he Fleur?”

“Yes.”

Fleur expected her sister to just literally kill her right then and there.

You hag, how dare you flirt with an Ithacan prince? I warned you! Now you will not make it to Sparta alive! Die!

But instead…

“Do you want to go?” Hermione sat down beside her.

“W…what?”

“Do you want to go with him?” Hermione asked calmly.

“Does it matter?””

“I am asking, am I not?”

“I do not know…maybe.”

“Do you love him?”

Fleur immediately lowered her head.

“I um, I...do not…”

“Then go.” Hermione smiled.

By watching Fleur's reaction, her sister had given her the answer she needed.

Fleur's eyes widened. Was this her sister?

“They will not let me go anyway.”

“Who are they?”

“Agamemnon and Menelaus.”

“Well, Agamemnon is not even family of yours and father wants nothing to do with you, so I am your guardian, and I am giving you permission to go Fleur. How did it happen anyway? You and Oliver?”

“I do not know, I never thought it would actually go this far-”

“It looks like he does love you very much.” Hermione smiled again, sadly this time.

“You think so?”

“I know.”

“Wow. Thank you Hermione.” Fleur hugged her. “What will you do? Come with me?”

“No. I will go back to Sparta. It is where I belong anyway.”

“That is not true! What about Harry?”

Hermione's eyes widened, but then again, she should not have been surprised about her sister's perception. She had been spending a lot of time with Harry after all. However, although her sister had a point, Hermione knew that she had to go back to reality.

“I will…set things straight.” Hermione sighed, tears threatening to fall down for the second time that day.

****

Dinner was a quiet affair, except for Ginny's flirtations with Harry, which Hermione found very difficult to

bear and as a result, did not touch her food.

Oliver kept staring at Fleur, and so did his mother, smiling at her broadly.

Harry kept moving his seat as far from Ginny as possible, continuingly glancing at Hermione, who did not meet his eyes at all through the night. To be more precise, she had avoided him all day. She kept putting up excuses in order to get away from him, but she was not going to do it for long.

Tonight, he would admit his feelings for her and make sure that she would stay with him forever. And

he knew just the way to do it.

****

“Hermione.” He knocked on her chamber door and entered just as she was getting out of the bath, combing her wavy hair.

He sighed. She was a beauty. She gasped as she saw him, instinctively tightening her cloth.

“Harry…”

“I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.”

“It is fine. Did you want something?” She was careful enough to avoid his piercing green gaze.

“I have not spent time with you all day. I wanted to talk to you about this morning-”

“Oh, well, would you mind coming later? I am still getting dressed-”

She gasped as Harry took her by her shoulders, leaning her against him into an intense kiss.

He moved onto her neck as he felt her responding and closed the door with his foot, following with her shoulders as she moved her head back instinctively.

He had really intended to talk to her, but she looked so beautiful and she had just a cloth on...talk would wait until later, he concluded, especially since she was arching against him.

“Harry…”

She had to try to talk some sense into him. She had to set things straight between them, but his name came out very much like a moan, and she knew then that she getting lost in him.

Harry settled her down easily on bed as she took his tunic neck, reaching for his lips again. And talk was forgotten, for the time being.

****

“Oliver…” Fleur entered the prince of Ithaca's chamber. He was already packing his belongings and jumped when he settled his eyes on her.

“Fleur? What are you doing here? It is kind of late.”

“Are you packing already?”

“I have to. What can I do for you?” He stopped his task to give her his full attention.

“I talked to Hermione.”

“Oh. Did you find out what was wrong with her?”

“Well, actually, she found out what was wrong with me. Your parents seem nice enough.”

“Well obviously, I am their only heir. They cannot afford to argue with me,” he said smugly, although he really respected and cherished his parents.

“Right.” Fleur laughed.

“What do you want?” he asked, as she got closer to him.

He thought that she had already given him his answer when he had forced him out of her chamber last night. So he really was surprised to see her, although he had to admit that he had been hoping to see her all day.

“I just wondered at what time we were leaving.”

Oliver's face lit up.

“Really? You-”

She interrupted him with a soft kiss that took his breath away.

“I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.”

“Well then, we can leave whenever you are ready; just not tonight. I want you to stay. I love you.” Oliver kissed her hungrily, claiming her body.

****

“ `Hermione?”

Hermione's eyes opened dazedly as Harry stroked her hair softly. Her back was facing him and

her body was snuggled up against his.

She sighed, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly.

“I want the throne.”

His statement took her by surprise, her eyes opening wide, but she still did not look at him.

“What?” Her voice was merely a whisper.

“I will take it, but…I want you to take it beside me. I want you to stay with me and be mine,

officially. I love you”

Harry immediately felt Hermione tense up and let go of his hand.

He quickly resumed the task of stroking her hair, trying to relax her once more, but she took the blanket and got up, staring at the sky through the open window. He followed behind her, turning her to face him. She had tears in her eyes.

“What is the matter?”

“Oh Harry…I…cannot…”

She lowered her face, but he would not allow her to avoid him once again and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Do you not want to?”

“I…I am engaged.”

-->

21. Facing the Mistake

Chapter 19: Facing the Mistake

I finally updated! Thank you for al your reviews. There is still a couple of chapters left (five more, I think) and the tension is going to last for a while. Again, thank you for the reviews and compliments, especially for that nomination. It is really an honour. I am going to ask you to please be patient because graduation is three weeks away, so I am going to be very rushed with research papers and tests from this point on. But please do not hesitate to review; I always read them even if I do not always respond to them. Enjoy!

“I am sorry.”

That night was eternal hell for Hermione, and the worst was yet to come.

She slipped into the coldness of her sister's bed, empty at the moment, for she could not bring herself to look at Harry for another minute.

She had hurt him, deeply, put him through something that he did not deserve.

So she just ran out of the room before Harry was even able to open his mouth. She had not even bothered to pick-up her own clothes; instead, she got out of her own chamber with just hunter green sheets covering her body.

It was nearly dawn when she reached her sister's pillow. Fleur had not bothered to come back from Oliver's room, leaving Hermione the chamber all to herself.

Hermione lay down, tears wetting the satin linen sheets. Her wavy hair covered her dampened face as her eyelids closed in deep sorrow. It was her fault. She had no one to blame, but herself.

****

Harry did not sleep that night and when the sun had finally risen from the deep horizon, his body also got up, aching in protest from the lack of rest. He had gone to his chamber once Hermione had left; silently hoping, although he would not admit it, that she was there, silently hoping for there to be some kind of mistake.

But she was not there and although he ultimately sighed in defeat and got into his bed, his mind was too busy thinking about how blind and careless he had been for him to get any rest.

As soon as he got up, he took a warm bath, his head still throbbing with confusion and anger.

She was engaged? She had been all this time? Why had she not told him? Why had she

allowed him to…fall for her?

He hit the tub in frustration. Perhaps his aunt was right. Perhaps the Spartans were just whores, without any feelings at all. And just what had he expected from the daughter of Helen? The biggest whore of all?

But as his mind concluded this, his heart and body expressed their deepest disagreements.

Even after her admission, he still remembered how she felt whenever she was just his. Her kisses, caresses, and

response to his passion were just as heated as his own. She had never refused him, no. She had

practically begged him to take her, to make her his. Her responses had never been cold, but filled with

desire, maybe…love?

His body still trembled with arousal as he remembered how she felt under him, so full of passion…

But she was not his! No matter how much she had given him, she still belonged to somebody

else. The question was who was he? Harry could not even begin to imagine. And rest assured, he

did not want to.

****

Hermione stirred on Fleur's bed as the door creaked open. Although the sun was already shining,

her room was only dimly illuminated, courtesy of the heavy curtains. She sighed in her sleep as the

paces got even closer to her bed.

Hermione gasped as her eyes opened. She wanted to scream, but she could not find her voice.

There was a red headed bastard seated on her bed, very close to her body frame, mind you, and he was

reaching to touch her untamed curls. She instinctively backed away as the scream was finally able to

escape from her mouth.

“Oh come on Hermione. Is that any proper way to greet your fiancée?”

Prick.

“Get out of the room, now!” Her voice came out in shrieking shouts, as she suddenly became aware

that she was still wrapped around Harry's sheets and that Ron's eyes were trying to pierce through her

angrily trembling body.

How had he found her anyway? This was not the room that she had been assigned to after all.

It did not matter now however. Right now, she just wanted to get the first garment that she could get her hands on and get out of there.

“Oh, you do not really want that, do you? I know you want me.”

“Get out!” she commanded, knowing there was no point in arguing with him.

“If you wanted me to go, then you should not have put such a sensual cover to your body. Now I am

ready to claim my prize.“ He tried to steal a kiss from her, but all he got was a face slap.

“You will not lay a hand on me. Am I clear?”

“You presume to tell me what to do Hermione? You are mine and you are going to have to get used to

it,” Ron clarified, his voice no longer gentle.

Hermione immediately got out of bed, But she was not able to open the door, for somebody else did it

for her.

“What is the scandal here?” Agamemnon's voice pierced through Hermione's ears like a cold steel knife.

This was all she needed right now.

Her body instinctively backed away while her hands tightened the Harry scented sheets

around her. But even after doing so, Agamemnon's eyes would not tear away from her body.

To Hermione's relief, for the moment anyway, Ron spoke, intending to catch Agamemnon's attention.

“Good morning Agamemnon, Sir.” He sprung forward to shake hands with the high king of Mycenae.

“Oh, Ronald, I see you have found your fiancée. How are you Hermione?” Her uncle tried to take

possession of her hand, but she grasped it away, gesture that got a wide and indignant expression from him.

“Bit hasty today I see, though that makes you even more beautiful.”

If Agamemnon had expected a gratitude for his compliment, he was gravely mistaken. Hermione's lips

were pursed while her nutshell eyes fought desperately to keep the tears inside. Tears of anger; hurt, and mostly guilt about the pain she had caused to the man she loved.

“Did you not hear your uncle talking to you Hermione?”

All that Ron's rough voice could do was get more rage out of her.

Hermione looked at him, ready to slap him, but decided against it. She would not give him power over

her. She would not make a spectacle like this while still in Troy, nor anywhere else for that matter.

“I…would like privacy to dress if you two do not mind.”

That request was all that Hermione could muster in a quiet, but firm voice.

“I certainly do not,” Ron replied arrogantly, giving her body another approving stare before Hermione literally

opened the door and got them out.

She collapsed against the closed door, tears covering her face.

When did life had suddenly become a curse again? She had forgotten the pain, the pain that her birthright entitled her to. That pain which had deserted her heart the moment Harry had pressed his lips against hers.

Now, it was back and with it, the guilt that came from hurting the very person who had attempted, and had briefly succeeded, to take it all away.

She had hurt…Harry.

****

“Oliver, we are going to be late for the morning meal!” Fleur giggled as the prince of Ithaca attacked

her neck, finalising with her lips.

In an instant, Fleur's thoughts about breakfast were forgotten. The only thought occupying her mind

was Oliver's lips against hers. He tasted so good…but it was still time for breakfast.

“Master Oliver! Breakfast time!” His nanny's voice interrupted the delightful moment.

And privacy was postponed…

Oliver sighed and went to open the door, attempting to put his garment back on. .

“Hi Pookie.” Oliver leaned against the door, still catching his breath.

“Good morning Master Oliver. Did you have a nice night?” His nanny's eyes beamed with curiosity.

“Extremely nice.” Oliver grinned.

“Very well. I will be sure to inform your mother. Now, you Sir best hurry up. We have visitors-”

“Oliver dear! There you are!” Oliver's mother, Penelope, stopped by her son's chamber.

“Good morning mother.”

“I have been worried sick! It is almost past-breakfast and there are visitors! You never-”

Penelope's statement was cut short when Fleur stepped forward in order to take her leave.

“Oliver, I am…Oh, hi Mrs. Odysseus and…Oliver's nanny,” Fleur's lips curled up in a polite smile.

“I see. “ Penelope drew her conclusions. “Do call me Penelope dear,” she cooed, “And this is Pookie.”

She pointed to Oliver's nanny. “She used to sew all of Oliver's stuffed animals, you know.”

“Mother!” Oliver's face turned a deep tomato color while Fleur had to stifle her laughter.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, he would cry if he did not have a stuffed animal next to him,” Penelope affirmed.

“Mother!”

“Come on Oliver. If I am going to Ithaca with you, then I had better know as much about you as I

possibly can; but I cannot sew,” Fleur intervened.

Oliver smiled at his fiancée while Pookie and Penelope brought their hands to their mouths in

astonishment.

“She is going with us?” Penelope asked, surprise evident in her voice. Fleur just nodded as Oliver

squeezed her hand lightly.

“Oh! What makes my Olli happy makes me happy!” Penelope enveloped Fleur into another hug; which

she returned lovingly.

“Mother, please!” Oliver protested once more as Penelope tried to hug him afterward.

“Oh stop it Olli! You may have a bride to be, but you are still my little baby!” She got her way.

“Breakfast?” Pookie offered, and after Penelope's embrace, they all followed her.

****

“Harry honey, are you ill?” Cassandra asked, fake concern along with satisfaction playing in her

voice, for she was gladly aware of Hermione's pressing commitment.

“What do you want?” Harry asked dryly while sipping his tea. The word “concern” was not in his

aunt's vocabulary and he knew it.

Cassandra gasped.

“Harry! It hurts me that you think such things of me! I was merely worried about my nephew, You

do not seem like yourself today.”

“Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers Cassandra? Drop the act before I

gag, all right?” Harry gave her a cold stare.

“Harry!”

“Why do you not tell me what you want and get it over with?”

“Well, now that you ask, I would like you to receive and be nice to the Spartan visitors. They are

finally getting that whore out of this place!”

“I thought I told you never to address Hermione in that manner!” Harry stood up angrily.

It baffled even him that even when he was angry at her betrayal, he would not cease to defend her.

“I will address her anyway I want since-”

“Ahem! Your majesty?” One of Cassandra's personal servants cut through the argument, making his presence known in the throne-room.

“What do you want?” Cassandra growled. She hated when her matters, personal or otherwise, were interrupted while she was dealing with them.

“The Spartans are here,” the servant replied.

Suffice to say, Cassandra's eyes lit up.

“Perfect! Have them come in! Have they had breakfast yet?”

“I do not think so, your majesty, since they were led them directly to Miss Hermione's bedroom.”

“My, my, how quick can they be?” Cassandra commented, glancing at Harry. This was obviously

making him uncomfortable.

But nothing could have prepared Harry for what he was going to see next…

“Greetings, beautiful queen of the east.”

Harry's emerald pupils dilated as the familiar feelings of disgust and rage swam over his body.

Ronald, son of Achilles, had come in, followed by Agamemnon, high king of Mycenae.

Wait a minute!

That meant…he could not be…

“Ah, Sir Ronald. Were you able to find your fiancée in good health?” Cassandra greeted back with an unusually sweet voice.

“Very good.” Ron grinned as Harry's hands almost broke the chair he was seated on, right next to the throne.

This was all he needed right now. Ronald of Thessaly was Hermione's fiancé. The son of the man who

had killed his father once upon a time.

“Good. So I trust-”

Harry's train of thought was broken by Cassandra's diplomatic gestures. His patience however, was running short. And it certainly was not going to make it through more diplomacy.

“When will you be leaving?” he interrupted his aunt.

“What? Harry, you-” Cassandra tried to make her nephew shut up. It was not diplomatically wise to throw guests out of the castle when they had just gotten there.

“When-will-you-leave?” Harry asked again. At this point, he was beyond diplomatic niceties, especially when he had found out that the woman he loved was unavailable and engaged to the son of his father's murderer.

No. He was not about to play the diplomacy game and the look he gave his aunt made it pretty clear that he was not going to retract his question.

“Well, we should be leaving...”Agamemnon proceeded to answer the question, as it was polite, before his eyes bore suddenly into Harry's, a look of pure bewilderment crossing his features. “Hector?”

“You wish,” Harry replied with venom.

“Oh my goodness! I do not believe you have met! This is my nephew Harry, heir to the throne,” Cassandra tried to regain control of the conversation, in vain.

By now, Harry and Agamemnon were shooting daggers at each other.

“No, we have not. So, son of Hector are you? I did not figure Hector was the marrying type. But then again, he was the oldest, so he would have done anything for the throne-”

“And I did not know that the position of high king gave you the right of forcing yourself onto your

brother's woman,” Harry stated, now positively furious.

Otherwise, he would have realized that he was antagonizing Tory's biggest enemy.

Agamemnon's expression reached its peak of enragement, but the high king decided not to give Harry the gusto.

Still, he still was going to answer, although diplomacy would have dictated keeping his mouth shut and act like a gentleman.

“You are saying that like she did not enjoy it. I know she did,” Agamemnon stated smugly.

Ron's face was puzzled as Harry almost launched at Agamemnon.

“You son of a-”

“Harry!” Cassandra tried to restrain his nephew, but Harry's fist was already dangerously close to

Agamemnon's nose.

Agamemnon's face, and Troy for that matter, for the moment anyway, was saved by a door creak. Harry's hands immediately halted as he took sight of Princess Hermione of Sparta making her way in.

“Hermione love, there you are!”

Hermione regretted ever entering as Ron made his way toward her. She tried to get away, but Ron's

arms grabbed her tightly, planting a slobbery kiss on her neck and directing her further into the throne-

room.

Her gaze passed instantly and automatically to Harry, whose dark green eyes pierced through

her like an iced knife, before shifting them away. Hermione chose the floor to look at instead,

blinking away sour tears that threatened to dampen her eyes.

“Hermione, how are you sweetheart?” The queen got Hermione's gaze off the floor.

Hermione gulped and continued staring at the floor, until an iced hand lifted her chin.

For obvious reasons, she did not feel like addressing the queen and knew the reason that the queen was addressing her: diplomatic niceties. Otherwise, Cassandra would not have bothered to even look at her.

She would have succeeded, if Ron had not meddled in.

“Quite introverted today, are we not love?” Ron asked. Hermione avoided further touch and got away

from him.

If she did not keep her distance, Achilles's kin or not, Ronald would probably not survive to see tomorrow, damned the consequences.

“I am sure her mood will improve once we get home,” Agamemnon intervened.

“Do not get too used to having her around though. I am taking her to Thessaly with me once the wedding has taken place,” Ron stated.

Harry could have swore that Agamemnon gave Ron a menacing look.

But it did not match Hermione's fiery eyes, which could literally have killed Ron when she glared at him.

What am I doing thinking about her again? Harry mentally hit himself.

He had to forget her. She was leaving, and he would not have her. But he was kidding himself if he thought his heart would comply with his head's command.

“Well, in that case we must be on our way. We have a long trail to take.” Agamemnon's voice interrupted

Harry's thoughts.

“Oh, stay for breakfast, I insist,” Cassandra pleaded, “That way you can get to know the future king

properly.”

Suffice to say all the eyes in the room became fixed on Harry.

“So, Hector's son is taking the throne?” Agamemnon asked, amusement in his voice.

In that precise moment, Hermione's eyes bore into Harry's, whose eyes were locked on hers for the

briefest of seconds. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but deep inside, he could detect a glimmer of hope.

“Yes, I believe I will.”

-->

22. Chapter 20: Pain Stabbed Deep Inside

Thank you for your reviews guys! I am glad you are enjoying this fic. I am certainly enjoying writing it. Don't hesitate to review. Sorry for the cliffie on this one...but I bet you are not expecting it. I appreciate your compliments and well wishes. Thank you guys!! Enjoy1

Chapter 20: Pain Stabbed Deep Inside

Not long after Harry's final statement, which no one contested simply because he was after all, the legitimate heir and was expected to take after the queen, Cassandra led the visitors over to the dining room for a morning meal.

Hermione stayed behind, and when Harry, who was the last to get out, finally made his way to the hallway, she took hold of his arm in a soft, soothing touch.

Hermione's touch sent shivers through Harry's spine and he found himself staring right into the

woman he loved seconds after. Her eyes were bright with tears threatening to stream down her face.

“What?” he snapped, his voice cooler than ice.

“Thank you,” she replied in a whisper.

“For?”

“You know what I am talking about Harry.” She managed to form a sad smile on her lips.

It did turn out that he did know. He just did not want to be reminded of the consequences of his decision, mainly finding out that Hermione could never be his.

“I did not take the throne for you, princess. There was no better candidate and I owe my father this much.”

Harry did not even buy his own words. However, Hermione nodded, a tear finally escaping her composed features.

Did this mean she believed him? Did she even care the reasons he gave? She had gotten what she had come for in the first place after all, had she not?

“I think you will make a wonderful king Harry. I have nothing more to do here then.”

”Wait.”

Before Harry knew what he was doing, he had taken hold of Hermione's hand. She turned around, and he could detect a glimmer of happiness in her teary eyes.

“Hermie, get in here!” Ron called out in the distance.

Hermione looked at Harry again and sighed, gave his hand a tight squeeze and disappeared into the

hallway.

“I love you,” Harry whispered.

****

“Oliver's girl? What do you know?” Agamemnon nearly choked on his food as he learned of Oliver's

and Fleur's new engagement.

“That is right. We leave tomorrow,” Oliver announced while his hand sought Fleur's.

“Well, I must say Oliver. I did not expect you to settle for a thing like that,” Ron admitted.

“Ronald!” Hermione shouted out, while Odysseus and Penelope gave Achilles' son a death glare.

“I believe I did not ask for your opinion, Ronald,” Oliver replied angrily, “I suggest you be quiet if you know what is good for you.”

“So, you said you are leaving during mid-afternoon?” Cassandra asked Agamemnon, trying to change the subject and prevent a possible fight.

Although she agreed with Ronald as far as Fleur was concerned, her decision was a diplomatically sensible one.

“That is what we said. The sooner we are in Sparta, the better,” Ron answered, as if the question was addressed to him.

“Tomorrow,” Hermione whispered.

“I beg your pardon?” Ron asked, puzzled. Nobody had ever dared to contradict him.

“We are leaving tomorrow,” Hermione's voice became more audible. “If that is all right with the

Trojans.”

“I do not-”

“Of course.” Ron's statement was cut off by Harry's voice. He really did not want them to leave and the statement was out of his mouth before he realized it.

Ron glared at Hermione as she smiled thinly at Harry.

“Hermione dear, someone should teach you to keep your mouth shut when you are not spoken to,” Ron

reprehended her.

“I was merely suggesting-”

“I did not ask for your suggestions!”

Hermione stood up, enraged. She was no one's puppet and she intended on letting her fiancée know that. The fact that this was not diplomatically feasible, both because men had power over women in the society she lived in and therefore, she was supposed to follow his orders without question and because she was in a public place, which was no appropriate place to bring out grievances, was nor even in the corner of her mind right now.

“What about what I want? Is that not important to you? Did you even ask me!”

“Why would I? We will do as I say and that is an order whether you like it or not!” Ron screamed at

her.

“You cannot give me orders! I am not a toy!”

“You are mine! That is enough!”

“I WILL NEVER BE YOURS, BASTARD!” Hermione shrieked. “I WOULD RATHER ROT!”

With those words, Hermione stumped out of the room.

Harry was tempted to stand up and go comfort her, but decided against it. It was not diplomatically appropriate and besides, she was not his to protect.

“She is just upset,” Ron assured. “Nervousness is quite natural in young virgin women. I will tame

her.”

Now Harry felt like gagging. The thought of Hermione with Ron was far too nauseating to say the

least. Besides, Hermione was no virgin; Harry knew that, since he himself had taken it from her. No,

she had given it to him.

****

“Hermione?” Hermione's room door was carefully opened by Fleur, who approached her sister's bed,

which for the first time, was not loaded with heavy books. Instead, there was a satin bag there,

already loaded with some of her garments. “I will help you pack.”

“No,” Hermione squeaked through loud sobs.

Fleur took a seat next to her, pulling her into a hug. As a result, Hermione's sobs became louder.

“Listen, I will go back to Sparta with you if you want to,” Fleur offered.

It was the least she could do since Hermione had brought her here. If it was not for her, she would not have met her fiancée.

“No you will not. You will go to Ithaca tomorrow, where you belong now.” Hermione tore away from

Fleur; forcefully cleaning the tears that covered her face.

“What about you?” Fleur crossed her arms.

“Me? What about me?”

“Do you know where you belong?”

“Of course. I am cursed with Sparta's throne.” Hermione stood up.

“Why did you come to Troy then?”

Hermione turned to face her sister. What was she getting at?

“Menelaus made me. I had to choose someone worthy of the Trojan throne. It appears that

the task is accomplished,” Hermione's voice was cut by a quiet sob once more.

“And what other task have you accomplished?”

“What?”

“You did not stay here so long to comply with just a duty.”

“Your point being-”

“You know what I mean Hermione. It turns out that instead of finding someone worthy of the throne, you found someone worth loving.”

****

“Congratulations on the throne, Hector.”

Harry turned his head to see Agamemnon making his way through the dense palace garden.

“My name is Harry,” he spat.

“So...” Agamemnon had the effrontery to sit down next to him, apparently not noticing or not paying attention to his mispronunciation mistake. Harry moved to the side angrily. “Never knew you had it in you.”

“Had what?”

“Your aunt told me about your refusal to the throne during all these years, until a few days back. It

does not seem like you, or your father anyway,” Agamemnon pointed out, making Harry's hands clench

into fists.

“You know nothing about me, or my father. Troy is mine now.”

“But that is not all you want, is it?”

“Look, Agamemnon...” Harry stood up. “Why did you really come here? I know you do not fancy a talk

with the son of your brother's enemy.”

“My brother does not matter to me.”

“Nor to me. So, why are you really here?”

“I believe I am here to pick up my niece.”

“And I believe she has a fiancée for that,” Harry's voice was drenched with venom.

“Whom you do not like very much.”

“And when did I get to have a say in this?”

“Since you took something that is not yours.”

Harry tensed up as Agamemnon whispered in his ear:

“I know you have taken my niece.”

-->

23. Between a Heart and a Conscience

A/N: The last chapter before graduation, oh boy. Thank you again for your patience. From the reviews, I gathered that some of you do not understand why Harry and Hermione can't be together. I suppose I wasn't clear, so I am including a bit of a political explanation in this chapter, part of which I sent as a response to a review by a rightfully confused reviewer. Hermione is engaged to Ron (you can tell I don't like the guy). First of all, Agamemnon has nothing to do with that; that is his brother's affair and even if it was his own, Hermione cannot contest that. Again, she is a woman and at that time period, women had very little value and basically had to learn to be submissive. Put it this way, everyone knows that Agamemnon raped her mother, repeatedly for that matter (Hell, even Harry knows and he was just a child at the time). Agamemnon also happens to be even more powerful than his brother (he is king of Mycenae, which also is around Greece; I'm not sure I could point it out on a map however), so if his own brother cannot stand up to him, Hermione doesn't stand a chance. There is another reason for which Hermione doesn't dare contradict her uncle and you will see why in this chapter. Moreover, even if Hermione was not engaged, her marriage to Harry would not even be contemplated. It would not do as a political alliance because Troy is already Sparta's property and therefore weaker than Sparta itself. Yes, Sparta controls it, and yes there is a chance that the Trojans might rebel, but Spartans (Menelaus as you can probably tell is Agamemnon's puppet) are too arrogant to think about a plan to make the people of Troy happy so they don't rebel. They are more interested in tribute and needless to say, they don't think they would rebel under Cassandra's leadership (she is a crazy woman after all). What Menelaus did to Hermione is diplomatic protocol. Once Harry takes the throne, Spartans assume nothing will change; Harry will be another puppet (he knows this and lets Hermione know in Chapter 4, I believe). I hope this helps to any of you who are struggling to understand the political situation of the time. Any questions/comments, don't hesitate to write! Thanks to my new beta hhrsdaughter. She is amazing! You should check out her fics as well… Well, on with the story! Thank you for bearing with me guys!

Chapter 21: Between a Heart and a Conscience

Harry's eyes opened wide and his mouth felt dry. He knew what Agamemnon was capable of. He had spent his childhood and more searching for information on the Spartans responsible for his father's death and Agamemnon's name had appeared on top of the list, despite the fact that Achilles's sear had been the one to pierce through his father's chest. But it was Agamemnon who had let Achilles fight for him. He knew that Agamemnon would not say this just to bother him. It was Hermione who would ultimately get hurt. He knew that

the king of Mycenae ached to repeat history.

“You are not going o bother denying it, do you? I cannot say I blame you though. She must have been a real delight.”

Agamemnon's voice was calm and cool, and Harry's fist could not hold back anymore.

He should have been thinking about how exactly Agamemnon found out. Instead, he launched himself against the high king, punching his face and breaking his lip as a result.

“You will not touch her,” Harry whispered in a threatening tone. His breath was uneven; self control quickly ebbing away into nothing.

“Do calm down Hector.”

“Harry!”

“Well, she is going to Sparta with me whether you like it or not. You did not think you could have her forever, did you?” Agamemnon displayed a malicious sneer. Obviously, Hermione's fiancée Ronald did not figure in on his plans.

“You will not have her either,” Harry hissed, although not necessarily because he was acknowledging that Ronald would get her. If it was up to him, neither of them would have her and she would stay in Troy, although he would never admit that.

To say Harry was disgusted with Agamemnon's clear intentions was an understatement. Harry was having a hard time keeping his sword in place. It would be so easy to just take it out and get rid of him once and for all, diplomacy be damned.

“So sure, are you? You are just like Paris, terribly naïve and foolish. Do you think Helen loved him? Do you think Hermione could ever love you? Women like that do not love. They are made to be dominated, tamed. Love has nothing to say in the matter. I wish Paris could have learned that before he died.”

Agamemnon's statement was laced with disdain. Rest assured he was not sorry at all. Although Harry could not figure out what exactly Paris had done to Agamemnon; Menelaus was the one who should have been outraged at being cuckolded.

Harry sighed. Did he really want that image on his mind? He knew why Agamemnon was making this conversation. Hermione was the one who would suffer if the high king had it his way.

“You mean before you killed him?” Harry snapped. In his anger, he had not forgotten who was really responsible for Hermione's pain, in every sense of the word.

“I cannot argue there, can I? I did the man a favor! Women make men weak and Helen only wanted his throne. I taught her a lesson!” He laughed darkly as the words left him, “I liked her better when she was angry; made her all the more exquisite. She was quite an indulgence. Pity she died.”

“You bastard!”

Now Harry did not even think about getting his sword out. He did not need any weapons. He only knew that he wanted to kill Agamemnon here and now, if only throttle him to death. He had done irreparable damage to Hermione. And if the king of Mycenae had it his way, he did not plan to stop until he had the next best thing to Helen.

“Careful Harry, you might lose your throne before you are even seated on it.” Agamemnon sneered once again, ironically getting his name right, something that Harry obviously did not pay attention to.

“I am not afraid of you.”

“So be it, foolish boy.” Agamemnon drew his sword and launched at Harry.

“NOOOO!”

Hermione's high-pitched voice echoed through the garden as the swords clashed.

Every reason why she should not be running to the man she loved slipped out of her mind the minute Agamemnon's sword pointed to Harry's throat. She did not know what she would say to get Harry out of Agamemnon's grasp. She only knew however, that she would not let Harry get hurt, especially on her account.

“Please don't hurt him! I will do anything, but please don't!” Within seconds, Hermione's body was in front of Harry, her hand on his chest, in order to prevent him from launching forward.

“Hermione,” Agamemnon was amused.

She really could not hide her emotions, could she? All the more reason women could not rule. They could not be rational.

“Hermione, get out of the way,” Harry commanded.

He figured that there was no use trying to pretend anymore that the princess did not mean anything to him, as Agamemnon had figured that he had made Hermione his.

“No! “ Hermione looked at Agamemnon with pleading eyes for a split second, suddenly desperately trying to look diplomatically composed.

Her guard however, had already dropped and of course, there was the little detail that her uncle already knew about her relationship with the Trojan heir to the throne.

Hermione cleared her throat, ready to address her uncle, although her hand was still in Harry's chest.

“All right uncle, think about this. Do you really want to be responsible for the death of the Trojan heir? We have worked so hard to achieve peace. You do not want to be responsible for a riot. How would Mycenae react? We would be on the brink of war. We have gotten what we want from Troy. There is nothing that cannot be solved with diplomacy. Is that not what you taught me? Please lower the sword.”

Agamemnon looked at her approvingly, although Harry suspected that it had nothing to do with her diplomatic skills.

“Spoken like a true ruler Hermione,” Agamemnon mused. “Of course, it would have sounded more believable if it did not come from someone who wants more than a diplomatic relationship with the son of Hector.”

The statement obviously caught Hermione by surprise, as her eyes opened wide. She discovered that suddenly she could not find words. One thing was the queen knowing; she would soon be gone anyway. Another thing all together was her uncle, who had the power and the ability to strike Harry dead with one single blow of his sword. It did not matter that Harry was younger; Agamemnon's skills frightened her to no end.

Suffice to say, Agamemnon immediately picked up her predictable reaction.

“Oh Hermione, I did not surprise you, did I? Apart from the fact that the queen could not help but chastise me from sending a whore to pick the next ruler-”

“You- “Harry had to say something, anything. He did not care what happened to him, but he would not allow anyone to hurt Hermione, much less the bastard that had raped her mother and that had been indirectly responsible for his father's death.

Hermione pressed against Harry's chest once more. There was no use denying it, and she did not want to make her uncle angrier. He would take it against Harry and she was determined to avoid that confrontation.

“Harry, don't,” she whispered pleadingly.

It was her painful tone, more than the request itself, which shut Harry up. She was tearing apart.

Did that mean she was feeling sorry about what they had? What was she going to achieve with this? What did she want? He could have taken Agamemnon. He did not need her here. In fact, he did not want her around her uncle, for the same reasons that his uncle Paris was always anxious when Helen strayed from his side.

Agamemnon could not help but sneer at Harry's effort to control his reaction.

“Oh come now Harry, do not tell me you actually are going to do what she tells you?”

He laughed knowingly at Harry's silence. Everything about the man was dark, and Harry could hardly control the anger ticking inside of him.

Hermione's hand had to exert more pressure on Harry's chest. She turned around to face him, and he knew that her pleading eyes always were the death of him. She was genuinely concerned and he would not give her any more reason to worry. He would take care of Agamemnon later.

Agamemnon however, would not let the issue go.

“Oh Harry, you are so terribly predictable, just like Paris. And you Hermione,” his eyes drifted to his niece, “should learn to hide your emotions more resourcefully, at least if you hope to rule Sparta. Even if Cassandra had not told me what she did, I could see your longing for him miles away. Do you think your fiancée picked it up?” He glanced at Harry once more. “Not that he would be much of a threat to you Harry, but I would happily fix-”

“Uncle, please stop. Take your quarrel with me, leave Harry out of it.”

Harry suspected where Hermione was going. He would not let her.

“Hermione don't-”

“You can do anything you want with me, just don't harm him. Please.”

If Harry could have killed Agamemnon that instant; he would have damned the consequences. The way he was looking at Hermione made him want to throw up.

But more than that, he was shocked with what she did. How could she? Harry would have rather die the most torturous death than to see Hermione in possession of her uncle.

True, she had a fiancée, but her uncle was the high king of Mycenae. If he could get Helen, Hermione certainly was not out of his reach.

“Anything?” Agamemnon's mouth curled into a malicious grin as he glanced at Harry, who was feeling utterly powerless at this moment.

Hermione nodded as a tear dampened her cheek. Agamemnon took the liberty to bring his hand to her soft face and wiped her tear. She turned her face immediately, staying absolutely still.

“We will see to that once we are in Sparta. In the meantime, I will grant your wish.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered. With one last look at Harry, she sighed, taking her leave.

Harry however, would not let her leave that easily. Not after what she had just done, pulling herself even further away from his reach and doing something that he knew was against her will. He had to know why.

“Damn you Hermione, why did you do that?” Harry went behind her, not caring to lower his voice. The Trojan court could think whatever they wanted. He was worried about her, angry at her for doing what she had done, angry that he could not be with her, angry that it hurt as much as it did, and that she had finally been able to melt the wall of ice he had kept around his heart ever since his father had died. Now, reconstructing it would be even more painful than it had been to put it there in the first place.

“Because,” her voice was a mere murmur.

He was not the least satisfied with her answer.

He would not leave until he at least had brought her words.

He was not doing that at the moment.

“Because?” Harry took her arm and pulled her forward, forcing her to face him. “You just sold

yourself! Does that not matter to you?” he snapped, suddenly not caring that a man was not supposed to scream to a lady. As far as he was concerned, she deserved every bit of the yell.

“I saved your life! What the hell do you think you are doing?”

Hermione matched him yell for yell. However, she made no attempt to remove her arm from his grip. She noted that although it was firm, it was not hurting her by any means.

Suffice to say, Harry was taken aback. He did not expect her to scream at him. He was worried about her honor and she did not care? But he was too angry to connect the dots, so he did not desist with the argument. He would not, until he got the answers, answers that he surely would not like, but those answers could probably help to get her out of his mind, and with time, of his heart.

“Defending you!”

“Me? I will walk out of your life tomorrow! I am not worth your life and throne!”

Hermione did not know how he could not understand. Could he not see that she was worried about his life? She would not forgive herself if anything happened to him, just like her mother could not live with herself after Paris was murdered.

“The throne is nothing!”

He had to make her understand that he wanted to take the throne, only if she was beside him, despite what he had said this morning.

“What?”

“You heard me! I do not want it!”

“Troy needs you, Harry! Must you be so stubborn?”

“Oh, I am not allowed to be stubborn, but you get to offer yourself to your uncle, who raped your mother, I might add? What about you? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you! “

“About me? Hardly.” Harry scoffed, now positively enraged. Could she not see how much he was hurting? Could she not see how much he loved her?

“Do you not understand? Agamemnon could kill you in a second! And even if he did not do so today, he would still haunt you. You do not stand a chance!”

“But you do?”

“My life does not matter! “

“What?”

“It does not matter anymore, because I just saved the only thing worth saving!”

Hermione gulped. She had not expected that to come out. Too late. At the sight of Harry's frankly confused gaze, she had no choice but to proceed to explain. She would have preferred his hate than for him to have to live with the bitter truth of her choice all because she could not keep from kissing him. Sure, he had started it. But she should have known better.

“My mother once told me that there were things worth dying for. She did not say however, that such a thing would be your heart.”

Harry sighed as Hermione's face drowned in silent tears.

“Hermione-”

He had to tell her. She did not have to do this. They could find some other way, and if death was an option, then he would prefer that to have her live the rest of her life as her uncle's sexual object.

However, he did not get a chance to say what was on his mind, for as soon as he opened his mouth, Hermione put her finger on his lips and shook her head. She took the liberty to caress his face softly before she made her way back inside the castle.

-->

24. Back to Me

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.

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25. For Your Love

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one guys! My beta had a computer problem and so we had to wait until we were both on line to send and receive files. On top of that, I started student teaching. So I hope this makes up for it. Europe was wonderful, thanks to all of you for your well wishes and graduation wishes, I love you all! Now, on to the story.

Chapter 24: For Your Love

“You are fighting with a Spartan—for that whore?” Cassandra's voice came out very much like a shriek. And why would it not? Harry's “perfect plan”, or so he thought, could leave her without an heir to the throne. Therefore, screaming was an understatement.

Sparta already had too much power over Troy; she wouldn't want to give them an excuse to pursue more, as she knew that if Harry was out of the picture, Helen's daughter would take over the throne. And she had not disregarded her theory that such a chance was what she was looking for in the first place. It would be the perfect opportunity, especially since the Trojan prince was risking his life for hers. Either way, Cassandra thought Hermione had nothing to lose, but everything to win.

“I thought I made it clear to not call Hermione by that name again!” Harry spat while polishing his sword.

He was doing the right thing, for Hermione. It was the only thought that kept him going. After all the love they had expressed from one another, both in and out of the bedroom, he could not bear to see her go. Especially to a fiancée that would treat her like a prize he just won in battle, and an uncle who would make her...Harry did not even want to think about it. She deserved better. And he knew that he could make her happy, and that she would make him happy; not to mention a better person.

His mood had drastically improved when he was with her. He could not bear to be his cold self with her and she put him in such a good mood that other people, his aunt as well, unfortunately, had noticed the change. And if something happened to Hermione, heaven forbid, it would be harder for him to go back to his cold personality having known the person who could melt it all away...

“That is what she is! Your throne is in jeopardy! You put Troy at risk for that-”

“My throne is nothing without her, Troy is nothing without her,” he said with both honesty and resolve.

He would end it today. Either he would have her or he would die trying.

He would have laughed at the irony if Hermione's life was not at stake. His father would have given him hell for this; but, for better or worse, he finally understood Paris's position, and why his father had felt obligated to do something about it— even if it cost him his life. Both his father and his uncle, under different circumstances, of course, had known love, both for a woman and for their country, and now it was his turn. He would claim the throne, but not without Hermione.

****

“Where is my daughter?”

As soon as Menelaus arrived, he noticed Agamemnon putting Spartan soldiers on the outsides of the castle.

A shiver helplessly escaped his body. The last days that he would see his wife in good health had begun exactly like this.

“I know not. Crying somewhere perhaps?” Agamemnon replied calmly. The memories apparently did not seem to bother him in the least.

“Crying? Why?”

“Because she is about to lose her Trojan lover!” Agamemnon stood up, his face full of rage, while

Menelaus's complexion lost all colour. “Yes, you heard me right, little brother. Your daughter has been whoring all this time with the son of Prince Hector! Well, she is going to Sparta with me whether she wants it or not. Since you obviously never did anything about it, it is again, up to me, to try to preserve the honour of the family.”

“Agamemnon, just what-”

He knew what his brother was capable of. But, despite the fact that he did not pay much attention to his only daughter, for she reminded him of exactly what he had lost, he did not want to see Hermione get hurt.

And he knew his brother, as much as he hated to admit it, was capable of doing just that without a hint of remorse.

“See, if you had followed my advice in the first place, this would never had happened, but being the stupid king that you are!” Agamemnon growled.

Picking up after his brother was getting old. But he had to admit that was not what bothered him the most. Hermione being intimate with a man that was Sparta's enemy, even if Troy was Sparta's property, made his blood boil. And if this was her way to be rebellious, he wanted to be the one to make her go back to the behaviour that should distinguish all women: being subservient to the men that they should be subservient to.

Menelaus did not dare to argue with his older brother, but this particular argument had occurred someplace in the bloody shadows of the past. And that had culminated with Helen's suicide. He was not going to let Hermione go through that a second time. He knew that even though she was only eleven years old when her mother had died, she had taken it hard, and never forgiven him for what she thought had been his fault. All these years he had blamed Helen for her own fate out of guilt; now he was not so sure she deserved the blame when this fate awaited his own daughter, it seemed.

It was time to be brave.

“Agamemnon let us not do this. If Hermione wants to stay-”

“Hermione will not stay! Do you not see? She has dishonoured Sparta! A little bit familiar, is it not, little brother? Will you allow the other woman in your life to dishonour you like your wife did?”

“Do not talk about Helen like that! She-”

“She was never yours! Because you never made her yours! Well, I will not let Sparta be mocked once more by Troy! He will die!” Agamemnon swore and Menelaus was, once again, powerless to argue.

****

“Harry I beg you, please do not do this. I will-” By now, Hermione was holding him firmly by his waist, her head settled on his back while he finished with his sword.

“Oh, so you would rather go to Sparta then?”

His tone of voice was no longer tender, but she chose to not pay attention to this. There were bigger matters at stake, such as his life. His insensitivity could wait.

“If that keeps you alive so be it! I could not live if anything happened to you! I would rather go back and see you alive-”

“And I could not live without you.” Harry turned around, cupping her cheek. Hermione, helplessly and... perhaps predictably... sank into his caress as he claimed her lips in a soft kiss. “I love you.”

“No! You are not…!”

Hermione, unfortunately, discovered what he was trying to do too late and before she could hold on to his waist, he was on the designated battleground, his sword and shield at the ready.

Hermione had to back away to the terrace and shield her eyes from the burning sunlight that surrounded the outsides of the Trojan palace on midday, probably another one of her uncle's sneaky strategies, to be sure. She just could not believe that Harry had been stupid enough to fall for it. She sighed. She had no one else to blame but herself for that one.

Upon closer inspection of the gardens, after chastising Harry in her mind for falling for her uncle's trick, and herself, for allowing Harry to get so close to her, Hermione gasped.

Agamemnon stood in a corner, Ronald in front of him. Now, what on earth was he doing there?

However, this worry slipped from her mind when she looked up, where the castle's second floor balcony stood.

There were Spartans archers everywhere on the left, Trojan archers on the right. The queen of Troy was sitting on a chair in the corner, but she could still see the fight. No doubt she was sitting there so no harm could come to her. And on the left stood, Menelaus? She would not even bother glancing at him a second time.

Her eyes darted to Penelope and Odysseus, who were talking desperately to him as though urging him to do or not to do something; she could not decipher which at the moment. And Oliver…

“Hermione!”

She felt a strong pair of arms around her waist as the person took her further into the terrace and away from the fighting zone.

Fleur was already there as Oliver turned her around to face him.

“You should not be out there. You could get hurt,” he said.

“I am not leaving, Harry!”

Hermione screamed as it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was bad enough that her beloved had decided to fight. It would be worse still if she was not there to make sure no harm came to him. She was not sure what she would do at the moment if Harry was under serious threat of harm, but she would find a way to do something, of that she was sure.

“Hermione, he has to do this. Not just for you, but also for himself,” Oliver tried to explain, but

Hermione would not hear it.

She did not know who she was angrier at the most at this point, Harry for being so foolish, or Oliver, always the diplomat, taking after his father, no doubt, for not doing anything to stop him.

“Really? I do not see how getting killed is going to get him his father back!” she spat.

Oliver would've proceeded to explain some more, mainly because he was sure that Harry was not doing it for his father, or at least not completely to avenge Prince Hector, but the clashing of swords drowned his words, and Hermione, suffice to say, would not listen after the fight had begun.

The Princess of Sparta gasped as she caught sight of Harry fighting, with Ron?

“Nobody tries to take my fiancée and gets away with it!” she heard his disgusting voice.

Apparently, Ron had begged Agamemnon to fight, offered him something most likely; she was not certain of the details, but her uncle looked to be fuming right now. Nevertheless, she did not care; even if Agamemnon was the better fighter, Harry was still not out of danger.

Harry sighed with impatience. Achilles' son was really a pinprick. It was Agamemnon he wanted to be fighting right now. But he figured that if he could cut of the head of Hermione's fiancée, it would not be a complete waste.

Suddenly, and inadvertently, Hermione let out a gasp as she felt a shiver run through her spine, as if something was about to happen. Wasting no time in figuring out why that feeling invaded her body, her eyes glanced around for possible signs of danger, getting out of Oliver's sight for a minute, who was still attempting, uselessly, to argue with her.

Her eyes left Harry for a moment, to settle on an archer that was preparing to shoot an arrow. The arrow pointed right at Harry. She should have known her uncle would do this.

But she wasted no time looking for her uncle. Her screams overcame her as her legs carried her, seemingly out of their own accord, away from Oliver and towards Harry.

“NOOO!”

A thousand thoughts invaded her mind as she went out to save the love of her life. How would she get there in time? How would she protect him?

She hastily pushed the thoughts away as she approached Harry. The important thing right now was to get to him; the rest would come in due time.

“Hermione don't!” Oliver went behind her, Fleur with him, and he did not have time to contradict her.

Harry's eyes opened wide as he saw Hermione running towards him.

“Hermione stop!”

It all happened in a blur. But Harry saw it all in slow motion.

****

“Harry, get down!” She screamed at him, while her legs guided her to him as fast as they could, and her mantle long forgotten somewhere in the garden.

“Hermione, no! Stop!”

His eyes momentarily shifted up as he tried to figure out why he had to get down, and watched, with horror, as an arrow was released of a Spartan soldier's bow.

At that moment, Hermione was finally in front of him.

As he was stronger than her, Hermione knew she would never push him to the ground in time. So she jumped against him, fastening her arms around his neck as she settled her legs around his waist. She held him tight as her back protected his chest.

Harry did not remember what he tried to do, or if he had time to do something for that matter, only that his eyes watched in horror once more as Hermione let out as loud gasp, and the next thing he knew, his hands were drenched in her blood.

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26. For honor, for Country, for You

A/N: Sorry guys! I know you are mad, but student teaching took all my time, and my strength too. It was worth it though. Now I can be a history teacher. To some of you that seemed pretty obvious with the subject of this fan fiction. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks to my beta, hhrsdaughter. Without her, this chapter would not be as good as it is. Please review, and happy holidays! Only the epilogue to go on this one. I hope it has been as fun to read as it has been to write. Enjoy; please review!

Chapter 26: For Honor, for Country, for You

“Hermione, oh no, Hermione,” Harry whispered as he tried to kneel on the ground, for Hermione's body had gone numb and she could easily fall down as her hands were not really holding on to him.

He tried to sit her, maintaining a firm grip at the back of her neck as he began to hear her choke.

“Hermione, no,” Harry pleaded as her chokes began to speed up. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself. She was the reason, after all, that he was fighting this battle in the first place. Without her, it was not even worth it to continue this fight.

A sad chuckle suddenly escaped his mouth. It was ironic that his father did not come to his mind as he considered the worthy cause of this confrontation. Before he met Hermione, he would not have hesitated to finish Agamemnon, for the sole fact that it was his fault his father was dead. Even if it was by Achilles' lance, it was Agamemnon who had given the order in the first place.

Agamemnon's death however, though it would certainly feel good as far as Harry's ego went, would not bring his father back, and it would not bring Hermione either. Although his father's death had been somewhat bearable, for he had been 10 at the time, not old enough to understand how politics and love worked, he could not go without Hermione. She had been the best thing that happened to him, and he was not going to give her up now.

****

Oliver had been running right behind Hermione when he saw the arrow hit the left side of her back. He got his knife out and threw it at the Spartan soldier, disarming him. The Spartan soldier was too shocked to pick back his bow.

“We have got to get the arrow out.”

Those were Oliver's first words as Fleur and he reached Harry's side.

By this time, Hermione's body had gone completely numb against Harry's and her chokes were desisting, replaced by laboured breathing.

“She will bleed to death!” Harry contradicted.

“The arrow cannot stay inside her!” Oliver pointed out.”It will kill her!”

As an answer to Oliver's remark, Hermione tightened her arms around Harry.

Harry's breath hitched alongside hers, awaiting the pain that was sure to come for her. She would not look at him, a sure sign that she probably did not want him to see the genuine pain that was showing in her cinnamon-colored eyes. He suddenly regretted ever accepting Agamemnon's challenge. But he knew that they could never be together otherwise. However, what good was this fight if she was not to survive? Could Oliver save her? He sure hoped so? He needed her.

“One, two-” Oliver announced, his way of telling Hermione to prepare for what was to come.

“AARGHH!” Hermione screamed at the shooting pain. She clamped her eyes shut for a moment to ease the dizzying pain. She looked down only for a moment as Oliver placed the arrow at his side, his hands drenched in her blood.

She would not look at Harry. She knew he was already agonizing over her current state; that is just how he was. Their love was that strong, and she knew it. The genuine pain showing in her eyes, not to mention that her skin was probably looking very pale due to the lost of blood that she was sure she was experiencing would only make matters worse. But she was not sorry for what she had done, and she would do it again a thousand times if that meant keeping him alive.

The eldest Spartan princess could feel Fleur's frigid fingers against her side, only for a moment before she lost feeling again. She wondered if it was her conscious mind that made the numbness fade in and out. But no matter how cold she felt, and how much she wanted to close her eyes and rest for a short minute, she had been making and would make every effort to stay awake at least until she made sure that Harry would be safe. She knew her wound was deep; the numbness that her body was going through were a clear signal of her loss of blood. She wondered how much more she could stay awake before her body gave out.

“We have got to stitch the wound fast if you want her to make it. She is losing too much blood,” Fleur stated frantically, her hands now trembling as they tried to press against her half sister's wound to try to stop the bleeding. But without stitches, she knew it was a losing battle. She would make it, but they had to act fast.

“It is my entire fault,” Harry whispered as he kissed Hermione's forehead. “I am so sorry.”

****

“Come out and face me, Trojan!”

Harry's emerald eyes became pools of ice as he heard Agamemnon's voice.

Now that Fleur had given him hope that Hermione was going to make it, he had to make sure that Agamemnon would never bother Hermione again. He just had to make sure that what happened to Helen once Troy was defeated did not happen to Hermione. No matter what happened, he would not allow the woman he loved to be her uncle's new pastime.

“Come on! You are not afraid of me, are you?” Agamemnon kept on taunting him.

“Do not go out there, please.”

Hermione's whispered plea broke through his thoughts.

Harry gasped as Hermione's eyes bore into his. Her glassy look was a clear sign that her wound was getting worse. He was sure her pain was too, and that made him all the more determined to finish her sorry excuse for an uncle.

“Do not talk right now, Hermione. You will be all right,” he assured her, if only more to assure himself that she would make it. She just had to.

“Harry, no!”

The princess of Sparta knew that his stubbornness would not allow him to listen; he would not stop, and that meant that her uncle could possibly kill him. Once again, even if she was aware of the consequences, she would rather be unhappy at Sparta knowing that Harry was alive than be unhappy at Sparta because Harry had died fighting for her to stay. Either way, it was not likely to end well. She had just bled for him! How much more would it take to make him see that she just wanted him alive?

“Hermione, maybe you should-” Oliver tried to intervene.

He knew Harry's motives and he knew that should Fleur and he be in this situation, he would do the exact same thing.

“Do not start with me,” Hermione commanded shrilly. Unable to keep her breath, she choked the last word, “Oliver!”

“Oliver, I am not getting enough pressure here!” Fleur screamed, her hands now bathed in red liquid.

“We have got to go Hermione.” Oliver tried to lift her, but she would not have it.

“Harry, I swear, if you go out there and Agamemnon does not kill you, I will do it myself. I will!

A slow, painful death,” Hermione promised in between scattered choking, while her eyes threw daggers at him.

“Then I will die happy.” Harry caressed her cheek. “Because I will be with you.”

“Stop it,” she growled, choking again, “Harry!”

She was not allowed to say anything else, for Oliver lifted her carefully into his arms while Fleur walked behind, putting pressure against Hermione's wound.

Harry sighed as Hermione's hand left his. At least he knew she would be all right. Now, he had to finish this.

****

Harry took his sword once more as he prepared to face his father's archenemy. Before the swords clashed, however, Harry was able to hear Menelaus's desperate plea:

“Stop this now Agamemnon! Hermione is hurt! Stop this before more blood is spilled!”

“Yes well, an unfortunate accident. She would not have gotten hurt if you had not infatuated her,” Agamemnon voice responded, his voice indifferent.

“Bastard,” Harry snapped. It was pretty clear to him that Agamemnon could not care less if his niece lived or died.

“Uh, uh, I was not the one left without a father at a tender age.”

That did it. The two swords clashed like a shaft of thunder.

The most lethal movements were performed as both men fought with all the anger that could possibly be held. Who would win was anyone's guess. Harry's lithe movements challenged Agamemnon's brute strength, knowing that fighting was about more than that. Mental agility and willpower went hand in hand with physical training after all.

“For father, for Hermione.”

These people were the only ones that occupied Harry's mind as he continued to fight.

As his sword was about to reach Agamemnon's chest, the king of Mycenae gave a sharp blow to his shoulder. Harry's body instinctively drew back as the force of the blow sent him collapsing onto the hot ground.

“See? You will never be rid of me. Imagine Hermione's face when I tell her that you have tragically passed away.” Agamemnon's sword reached Harry's chest as Harry tried to fight the pain while steadying his breath. Harry was glaring at him with all that he could; his dark emerald depths throbbing with anger.

“Poor darling. She will be so depressed-”he continued maliciously.

Harry could not take it anymore. With his injured shoulder and all, he launched against the high king of Mycenae with such fury that his sword passed Agamemnon's chest from side to side.

“Now that would be a shame,” Harry whispered as Agamemnon's body fell numbly into the ground. A few chokes were heard, before the last breath left his body.

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27. Epoilogue

Well, dear readers, like every wonderful journey, this one too has to come to an end. I enjoyed every single minute of it, and I apologize it took so long. My wonderful beta has already agreed to work with me on my next fan fiction, which shall be posted soon. This one will not be based on ancient history, but it will be AU all the same, so stick around. I want to thank all of you for your support and, most of all, patience. Please leave your last reviews, I appreciate them. I did not want to get too cheesy and post a song, but I think one appropriate for this ending would be As Long as You Love Me, by the Backstreet Boys. Thanks so much to my beta hhr'sdaughter. Enjoy everyone! Until next time.

Epilogue

Hermione's chestnut eyes opened as the first ray of light went through her room window. She grunted at her first movement attempt, her body complained of pain, and it was then that she noticed something heavy lying between her chest and stomach.

She raised her head to find Harry there, seated with his head laid on her abdomen. He was breathing calmly, clear sign that he was still asleep. He had his arm heavily bandaged and his hand was clasped around her own.

Hermione sighed again, with relief this time, as she let her free hand caress Harry's face. The fact that Harry was here told her two things: most importantly, Harry was alive; her uncle had not killed him. Secondly, if he was here and not in some dungeon, it meant that the Trojan throne had not been taken by Agamemnon, hopefully. She knew Harry enough to conclude that he would rather die than make any kind of deal with the High King of Mycenae. That could only mean...

Hermione gasped as Harry's hand squeezed hers. Seconds later, a whispered moan escaped his lips, his emerald eyes opening in a lazy manner, the same way they had opened when she was preparing to leave his room the night that she gave herself to him for the first time.

The memory brought both a smile and chills of desire to her body.

She smiled softly at him as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

“I love you,” she whispered, doing him the same favour he had done to her the morning of the previous day, when she had awaken to those three wonderful little words. She hoped he wanted to hear them as much as she did.

“Hermione!” Harry's face lit up with a smile of pure happiness as he brought her hand to his lips, just like he had done the first time they had met. Except this time, her hand did not receive a light peck. Instead, Harry kissed it tenderly and thoroughly, from its back to her palm.

He stood up and literally dived into her bed.

“Easy there, Harry,” Hermione told him, noticing that his body tensed up as he was making his way toward her, obvious evidence that his wound was still tender.

But that did not stop Harry's advance. Before Hermione knew it, their lips were meeting in a kiss that they both craved, a kiss of happiness, a kiss that assured them both that they were going to be together forever. It was a tender promise, a gentle statement that assured Hermione that the Prince of Troy would never leave her side again. And now that both of them had made it clear that nothing would keep them apart, the promise of spending the rest of their time together was just what they needed to finish cementing their love for one another.

Harry rested his forehead against hers as she giggled softly. No words needed to be said; the promise shared in their kiss had rendered any words powerless.

“Look who is awake!” Harry's and Hermione's moment was interrupted by the entrance of Oliver, who was holding Fleur's hand adoringly. He brought her beside him, holding her close to his chest in a both shielding and loving manner.

“Awake and not wasting any time, it seems,” Hermione's half-sister observed.

Harry and Hermione looked at the visitors as Hermione blushed furiously. The visitors, however, did not take the hint that the couple wanted to be left alone in order to make up for lost time.

“So, are you still going to kill Harry? He is after all, relatively unharmed for the most part, except for that shoulder of his. Your uncle however, did not have the same luck,” Oliver pointed out to Hermione.

“What?” Hermione's eyes opened wide. She could not believe what she was hearing. Could it be true? She could not remember wanting anything more. And what was best, Harry was still standing.

“It is over Hermione. You do not have to worry about him anymore,” Harry assured her.

Hermione's eyes radiated with happiness. She could not even speak; her smiled plastered to her face, she hugged Harry until he grunted in pain.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” She tore away, realizing that she had unintentionally squeezed his still tender wound.

“Go easy on me there,” Harry said smugly. He always relished Hermione's attention, and after, as he called it, he saved the damsel in distress and now she could stay here, he figured that he deserved some attention.

Hermione however, would not let go of the events so easily.

“Well, serves you right, after nearly killing yourself! I will not go back on my word; I promised, after all, to kill you myself. However, I can think of other methods of torture,” she could not help but chuckle.

Despite their disagreement, she was also aware that in not giving up, Harry had saved her from a depressing fate at best, her mother's fate at worst, and for that and the fact that he was still alive she would be forever grateful.

“Well, let us have them then,” Harry grinned maliciously, thinking two could play that game, and obviously momentarily forgetting that they had company.

The four of them laughed, Hermione blushing furiously.

Their happy moment however, was suddenly interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door. Hermione scoffed when Menelaus entered seconds later.

Somehow men thought they had the right to enter whenever they wished without waiting for permission, but she would be lying to herself if she told her mind that such was the reason for her anger.

Harry got up from the bed as Hermione could not help but sigh in annoyance.

Why did Harry have to leave her side? Did he not know that she wanted nothing to do with her mother's husband? She had never called him father and she never would; he did not deserve it.

His hand squeezed hers suddenly, as if reading her thoughts and his green eyes locked with hers. That was sufficient to calm her down. But that did not mean she wanted Menelaus to stay.

“Please, I would just like…a few moments alone with my daughter, if I could be allowed,” he pleaded, accurately sensing that his presence was not welcomed.

At this point, Harry was still holding Hermione's hand while Oliver had moved to a corner of the room, holding Fleur against him in an almost possessive manner. But Menelaus would not give the blond a second look.

“Suddenly I am your daughter?” Hermione's eyes threw daggers at him.

Despite Hermione's contempt however, Oliver, Harry, and Fleur went out of the room after Harry gave Hermione a soft kiss on the forehead.

“I will be right outside,” Harry whispered, as if to say: `If anything should go wrong, call and I will be here'. Hermione nodded solemnly, making a mental note of his coded message.

Harry gave Menelaus a menacing look, letting him know that he would not see the light of day again if he so much as lay a hand on his injured beloved.

Menelaus nodded slowly, as in understanding, before Harry stepped out.

“Whatever you have to say, first of all, let us establish that I do not want to hear it, but since you pushed everyone I care about out of the room, make it fast. I want to rest,” Hermione's voice was cold.

“I…owe you an apology,” Menelaus blurted.

“You? An apology? What is the occasion exactly? That I was an inch from death because of your goddamn pride! Or maybe I should say cowardice?” her voice had risen to the very core. She would have gotten up from the bed as well, in order to give more emphasis to her statement, if her wound had not protested in her attempt to do it.

“Hermione, please just hear me out.”

“Oh, I am Hermione now? What happened to Helen's daughter?”

“Listen, I know I have not been the best father and you deserve better-”

“Best father? You have not even been a father Menelaus,” Hermione replied harshly.

Menelaus gulped before going on. She was right, but he had come here to say something, and he would not back out, she deserved better than that. If he could not make Helen happy, at least he would not stand on Hermione's way to accomplish her own happiness. It was the least he could do, not only for his daughter, but also for his late wife.

“I know, and I am sorry.”

“It is a little too late for that.”

“I know.”

He sighed. It was now or never.

“It is just I always blamed Helen when I should have blamed myself. It was my fault that you

never had a mother to grow up with, that Fleur passed her whole infancy without a mother's love. When I saw that arrow hit you, I knew you were not giving up. And that is just like you; never settle for anything, just like Helen, before I killed all her hope and desire to live for that matter. And I just want you to know that if you want to stay beside that man you love, you have my blessing. I know I should have done it a long time ago, if only to keep your mother alive. I should have just let her stay; I just hope that one day you can forgive me. It will take time, but I am willing to wait.”

Hermione sighed, not even looking at him as Menelaus made his way out.

She looked at the entrance to the room just in time to see Harry come in.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern showing in those emerald eyes she easily got lost in.

She smiled, slowly nodding. It would take time, but she would be all right. One day, she hoped, the wounds would mend. It was what her mother would have wanted; she would give it to her.

****

“I want a daily letter and a decent invitation to your wedding!” Hermione laughed as Fleur got into Oliver's carriage, as his official betrothed, to begin their journey to Ithaca.

“That goes for you too.” Fleur smiled. “I am not so certain about the writing though. I expect to have a busy schedule. Pooky will be teaching me how to sew stuffed animals for Oliver here.”

“Fleur!” Oliver blushed furiously.

Fleur just dismissed the mortification with a kiss, which he was only too happy to return.

“Have fun.” Hermione returned her smile.

She hugged her half -sister one last time before the carriage set on its way.

The heir to the throne of Sparta sighed with both happiness and sadness. Her half-sister was going to be happy, she was going to be where she belonged; but then again, so was she.

“Are you all right?” Harry's voice came from behind her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I will be.” She turned around to face him. “How is your aunt?” she asked, knowing well that Harry had just come from seeing her off after spending a few moments with Oliver and who would soon be his sister-in-law.

“She will be okay. We talked, and after many apologies, she sends some to you too by the way, she does not want to live in the castle anymore; many bad memories. We decided that she will part to a quiet place in the country-side and maybe there she will find peace. She has had quite a pressure on herself since childhood, especially since all her family, except me of course, died in the war. I hope that she can find some peace now that she is free of the Trojan throne.”

“A throne that belongs to you now.” Hermione smiled. After everything they had been through, it was ironic how she had finally done the job she was sent to do in the first place.

“Yes, you finally got your way.” Harry smiled back. Looking back at it, he would not have it any other way.

“Thank the stars for that,” she giggled. “What will you do first?”

“Well, crown you of course. Every lord needs a lady. I could not rule without you.” Harry caressed her cheek as she blushed. “That is, if you will still have me.”

“Now, why would I refuse you?” She took his hands in hers.

“I can be a pretty tough person to live with. Sure you can put up with me?” he grinned.

“As long as you love me,” Hermione whispered sincerely. “Besides, after everything that has happened, I should be asking you if you still want to crown me,” Hermione giggled once more. “Are you sure that Troy is ready for a queen like me?”

“I like a challenge.” Harry kissed her, a kissed that sealed her fate.

Like her mother had once wanted, she would marry who she wanted, would marry for love, and what was more, what Hermione knew would make her mother smile from the heavens, she was to live in the place that made her mother happy, a place that Hermione was sure would make her happy as well. In time, she would rule both Troy and Sparta sitting on the Trojan throne.

She would not have it any other way.

END

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