Dilated Lust

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It was on the 10^th of June that he first laid his eyes on her.

She was seated by the balcony, amongst crowds of gentlemen willing to take her hand in marriage. With the way her lips pursed at all of them, it was safe to assume that this was not a situation she had planned herself. He then wondered why he wasn’t amongst them, trying with every ounce of confidence to catch her attention and win her heart.

But then, that was the point.

Because you see, falling in love wasn’t in his vocabulary. It was a mere plague to him, which would eventually lead to desperation and loneliness. It was the serpent that tempted Eve to take a bite from the apple. It was the giant amongst the Philistines that was sent to attack a young man named David. It’s the very root of evil amongst men, and he despised it. He had vanished love from his life completely, and merely sworn himself to a life filled with passionate desires and lustful renegades.

But in mere seconds, these thoughts vanished when she set her eyes on him.

A mixture of cinnamon and hazel brown met his, and he had sworn that the faintest hint of a blush had crept up her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled amidst the moonlight, shadowed by her prominent auburn locks that cascaded softly down her back. She didn’t bother smiling, not even the slightest bit, before turning back to her eager audience.

It was all a part of the game he played. Women, as he had studied carefully, merely do not wish for marriages and children. They wish for lust-driven nights, filled with the reverberating screams of passion and desire, before waking up to find that their lover has already departed, and that their spouse had just arrived to greet them good morning. That was his perception of a woman, and many times, this has been proven true for him.

Most of the time, he was the lover.

“She has that effect on people. Men in particular.” His gaze shifted quickly onto the person standing beside him. He grinned.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. I think the entirety of Bristol’s finest men are up in that balcony with her.” He mused. He tried not to look pulsed by the suspicious look his companion gave him.

“So this is evident proof that you’re not a part of that elite group?” He chuckled.

“I’m my own group, Sirius.” The air started to fill with chuckles as Sirius clasped him at the back.

“You never cease to amuse me, Harry. Never.”

“And you should thank me properly by buying me a glass of whiskey while we’re here.” He quipped. Sirius grinned back at him, all the while making their way into the pub in front of them. Harry cast a passing glance at the balcony, only to find her looking back at him. Noticing his gaze, she looked away quickly, before turning her attention back to the red headed young man beside her, who seemed to be talking animatedly about something that was the least bit amusing to her.

He had much to learn, He thought.

Entering the pub, the two gentlemen were instantly greeted by an entrancing display of women, all of whom were lined just by the bar. Their frilly skirts landed just by their feet, yet their clear white shirts hiked all the way up to their bust line. The sheer fabric purposely displayed multiple pairs of plump breasts underneath.

Sirius nudged Harry with his elbow.

“What a night we’ll have.” He mused. Harry grinned back at him.

“Just you for tonight, Sirius. I’m on a temporary hiatus.” Sirius looked at him in disbelief.

“Since when were you ever on hiatus?”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve abstained from all the action ever since that night with Lady Sharmaine.”

“Traumatizing, yes?” Sirius asked with amusement. Harry laughed at his remark.

“Quite the opposite, actually. Her aroma still lingers by the tips of my fingers, I wouldn’t dare replace it just yet.” He remembered that night vividly. She was just as lovely as a newly plucked rose from the King’s garden. He remembered her cries amidst woes of pure ecstasy as he held her smooth back, which seemed to arch by his fingertips. She smelled of freshly ground cinnamon, and it intoxicated him as he threw her into gasping cries of pleasure. Her hands pressed tightly against his back, leaving a heavy mark that remained until his arrival back home. She was lovely, and simply breath taking.

“She must have been something.” Sirius broke Harry out of his reverie, noticing his already dazed expression. Harry nodded simply.

“She was, indeed. She would stay imprinted in my mind forever.”

“Had you ever pondered on the fact that she is merely a slave from the king’s empire?” Harry took a sip from his glass.

“Never. Being the noble man that I am, I saved her from the pitfall that is slavery.”

“And have you ever wondered if she had ever needed you for a longer period of time?” He answered quickly, and with no restraint.

“No. Because that time we shared was time well spent. That single moment can count as a whole eternity for her.” Sirius shrugged at his words, immediately silenced as he took as sip from his own glass. With a loud pop, the glass landed onto the wooden counter.

“Well hello there.” Harry felt her whisper by the nape of his neck. Turning around, he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

“Alice!” He exclaimed, pulling her in for a small hug. She snickered loudly as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her blonde hair was tied neatly into a bun, adorned by a single tulip that lay still by the center. Her skirt fell just below her knees, accompanied by a simple peasant shirt that Harry assumed she had gotten from the flea market. She was still as gorgeous as he had last seen her.

“How have you been, handsome?” She teased. Harry grinned back at her.

“I’ve been doing well, thank you. And you?”

“I’ve been better. My husband’s out with his friends again. So the moment I saw your shaggy black hair enter this bar, I knew I had to come by and say hello.”

“How lovely of you.”

“Ain’t it?” The three laughed. She took a seat next to Harry, all the while ordering a whiskey for herself. They sat in silence for a while, taking in the different sounds that echoed through the pub. Men cheered and laughed in one corner, all the while being surrounded by a series of topless women. Their skirts hiked all the way up to their thighs, revealing the fishnet stockings they wore underneath. Alice smiled, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“What’s got you so happy?” He asked her. She took a small sip from her glass before speaking.

“I’m just feeling nostalgic.” She said, her eyes trailing towards the line of girls by the front. Harry smirked. Having known that Alice had transformed from a mere prostitute to a mother of three, he couldn’t help but admire her. She met her husband in the same bar he was in, being a mere client to her. Such passion they had brought on that night sparked a love both had never discovered before.

“Did you enjoy it? Having that profession, I mean?” He suddenly asked. She chuckled.

“Bloody hell, no. I’m glad I got out of that predicament. It was hell at its finest. Every night was happy hour, it disgusted me.” The three of them laughed once again.

“But do you miss it?” Sirius asked in the middle of chuckles. By this, Alice’s face turned serious.

“Honestly, I do. I miss it so damn much. But if I were given a chance to do it all over again, they could kiss my arse.” With that, the three of them raised their glasses, smiles tugging at the corners of their lips.

It was then that music started to fill the air, signaling the hour of dance. Harry watched as the women, including Alice, gathered around the center in a circle. Sirius couldn’t help but nudge him endlessly, grinning madly as they both watched the spectacle.

The beat rose intensely, and all of them started to dance. Harry watched every single curve of every single one of them, staring at their hips as they swayed sensually with the music playing in the background. He adored every single one of them. The full mystery of a woman’s natural physique was incredible. All of them looked gorgeous in his eyes, all of them containing the same desire; The same yearning he had studied for so many years. The same desire he had mastered to satisfy.

He watched as Alice twirled endlessly, her skirt billowing around her as it revealed her tanned legs underneath. Men cheered aloud as she landed on his lap gracefully, giving him a small peck on the cheek before continuing onto the dance floor once again. Harry smiled back at her as she swayed her hips fervently, small strands of her blonde hair falling out of her bun.

“Isn’t she a fascinating piece of work?” Sirius spoke.

“Who, Alice?”

“Yeah, Alice. Her husband’s a lucky man.” At the far end, Alice threw a small wink at Sirius. Harry couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

“Do you fancy her, Sirius?” Harry asked suspiciously. Sirius face turned serious, and Harry noticed his troubled eyes.

“Yes, I do-“ He stopped midway to take another sip from his glass. Harry watched as the perspiration started to build up by his forehead.

“But she’s someone I cannot have.” He said finally. Just then, the music halted, having the crowd roar in applause as the girls posed in finality. Harry and Sirius applauded slowly, seeing Alice bow just by the center before approaching them once again. With the new knowledge Harry had gained from Sirius, he couldn’t help but feel a certain awkwardness now that Alice was around once again.

“That was jolly fun, wasn’t it?” She exclaimed, her breath still hitching from her frenzied dancing. Harry glanced at Sirius, only to find him nodding simply. Noticing the sudden awkwardness, Alice quirked an eyebrow.

“What’s gotten you two wankers in a slump?” They both gave a hearty laugh. By the corner of his eye, Harry saw Sirius give Alice a side-glance.

“Nothing, Alice.” They answered in unison, mocking those of kindergarten students. Alice ruffled Harry’s mane of hair before standing up and giving Sirius a small peck on the cheek.

“I’ve got to go, lads. My husband must be waiting. The children need to go to bed as well.” With that, she waved goodbye before stepping out into the cold weather of Great Britain. Sirius drowned down his last glass, sighing as he felt it burn through his throat.

“How long has this been going on?” Harry inquired. Sirius shrugged in reply.

“Since the first time I met her.” He mumbled slightly. Harry noticed the trouble in his eyes once again.

“Sirius, you can tell me anything.” The assurance was evident in his tone, and he knew that Sirius trusted his words.

“I was a customer of hers.” He said simply. Harry stared back at him in disbelief.

“I thought you said you met her at a market somewhere?”

“Yes, I did. That same night, I became her customer. She was my lover, I was her client.” He held the glass to his lips, only to find it empty. Setting it down once again, he sat straight, facing Harry with droopy eyes. Harry could already smell his drunkenness.

“It was the way thing were, my boy. I envy you, actually. You never really get too attached with your women. I do. It’s what makes it so hard to succumb to every night. It’s what made it so hard to make love with her. She was amazing, Harry. She was just…incomparable. She was like a rose that I held within my fingertips. I could still bloody taste her, it hurts.” Harry had never seen him so broken. His mentor and companion was, for the first time, at a loss for words.

“Mate, I’m sure there’s other—“

“I’m a grown man, Harry. I’ve moved on. I’m not over it, but I’ve moved on to redder roses. Fresher ones, with less thorns.” Cinnamon eyes flashed in his mind. The image of her auburn curls cascading her arched back, her lips slightly parted and swollen, and his face against the bare skin of her neck. He imagined her small moans against his lips, and her hands that clutched tightly onto his back as her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them within a thin layer of sweat, screaming in woes of pleasure and desire.

“Harry? Are you alright?” Harry looked quickly at Sirius, whose face seemed worried as he stared back at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind, is all.”

“Who?” Sirius asked amusedly. He saw a smile tug at Harry’s lips.

“No one in particular.”

“Is it Hermione Granger?” Harry’s head snapped towards Sirius direction too fast, that he heard the familiar cracking of Vertebrae by his nape. Sirius suppressed a chuckle.

“Harry, I love that you’re starting to end your hiatus, but you must think long and hard about her. She’s the King’s daughter.”

“Which is exactly what makes me want her even more.”

“You go for those that are really hard to get, don’t you?”

“It’s what makes seducing more enjoyable. A noble man such as myself would say the same.”

“How is it more enjoyable?”

“The thrill of hiding in the darkness of the dungeons, and laying her against the stone wall.” Harry didn’t notice his knuckles turn particularly white. The imagery in his head was too vivid for him to take. Sirius nodded in approval.

“Enjoyable it is. But please Harry, take my advice on this. She’s not worth having you beheaded.” Harry stood up, taking a last sip from his glass.

“She is, Sirius. She is worth more than my life itself. And I swear to you, I will have her swooning over me before no time.”

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A/N: A new take on Harry and Hermione’s relationship. I always saw him as a classic Cassanova/Don Juan. Having that said, this plot bunny came along. For the basic facts, they live in the chivalrous eras of Great Britain, where men rode in horses, and women basked in their own pride and sophistication. It was an arrogant time, really. As for Hermione’s status, she is currently the heir to her father, who was mentioned to be the king of Great Britain that time. Thus, this makes her fragile. But a little more on that as chapters go on.

Comments are greatly appreciated. Tell me what you think! O3O

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Hours have passed, and he remained still and silent beneath the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to approach her. Men have surrounded her the whole night, and it took until dawn for the last one, that single redhead, to leave her alone in peace. After which, she seemed so tired that her postured back slouched down lazily as she breathed a heavy sigh.

Harry suddenly felt his heart pump intensely.

Women usually had this effect on him, he concluded. It wasn’t just a mere coincidence for him. The anxiety of actually approaching a woman, most of all by a stranger, isn’t a very easy thing to do, especially if your intensions include a series of seductions.

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, he attempted to step out of the darkness.

“Rosa!” She called out groggily. Harry took a step back, hiding once again as a plump woman entered the room hastily. He huffed out the breath he’d been holding in for so long, a thin layer of perspiration evident on his forehead.

“Yes miss?” Rosa asked humbly. A slave no doubt, he thought. He assumed that she was in her mid-50’s, noticing the multiple laugh lines and wrinkles that started to form on her face.

“Would you be a darling and fetch me my scarf, please? It’s chilly outside, and a cold is the last thing I’d want to have right now.” The smile that she wore at those moments somewhat made Harry more anxious than he already was. With a bow, Rosa exited hastily, her running footsteps reverberating loudly outside. Looking around the empty room she was in, Hermione leaned against the balcony, her back arching slightly as she took in the breeze of the new morning. Harry stared at her face for a period’s time. The perfect symmetry of it made her lovelier than she already was.

“Be careful. You might fall.” He suddenly spoke. Hermione looked back quickly, gasping upon the sound of an unfamiliar voice. She looked frantically around the room, only to find it dark and empty. She was suddenly fearful.

“Show yourself!” She said, a roughness in her tone. Inwardly though, she was shaking in fear.

Harry stepped slowly into the light, his steps fervent against the creaking wood. Hermione squinted her eyes at him, having only half of his face illuminated by the rising sun outside. He stood a safe distance from her, and she backed a few more steps for good measure.

“Who are you?” she demanded of him. He bowed slightly, his hands dipping by his stomach as he did so. She nodded back in respect.

“Harry Potter, your highness.”

“Rubbish. Within the walls of a castle, I am royalty. Outside though, I am no more than a mere peasant.” She scolded him. He glanced up at her from his perfect bow, an eyebrow quirking on his face.

“You are the least bit of a peasant, miss.”

“Don’t flatter me, Sir Potter.” She replied hastily. Harry bent up properly once again, taking a single step towards her. She attempted to take one step back, yet she felt the rail of the balcony brush against her ankles. Harry gave a satisfied smirk, which she later on loathed.

“Miss, are you afraid of me?” She looked scandalized.

“Afraid? I, Hermione Granger, am afraid of you? Are you jesting me?”

“You have been stepping away from me ever since I introduced myself.”

“I’m being cautious. You’re a complete stranger.”

“But you’ve seen me before, yes?” She frowned before hesitantly answering him,

“Yes, I have.”

“But with what I’m seeing now, I assume that you think less of me?”

“I don’t think less of anyone.”

“Then how would you explain this?” He said, a smirk tugging at his lips. She took a moment to analyze the scene before her. It came to her mind that she was defensively leaning against the balcony, her face in a deep scowl as he stood meters from her, his hands folded neatly by his chest as a grin spread across his face. Her scowl softened slightly.

“You could not possibly blame royalty for being suspicious of everyone. Every person is a threat. And by every person, I mean noble men like you.”

“So you are suspicious of everyone.”

“I did not say that.”

“But you just did, Miss.”

“Don’t mess with my head, Potter. It was directed to you, not to Great Britain’s entirety!” Her voice raised a decibel higher, and Harry merely smiled as she realized the unreasonableness of it. Harry saw the slightest traces of a blush creep to her cheeks.

“My apologies.” She whispered, her breathing escalating slightly as he took a few more steps towards her.

“You know Hermione, why do you waste your time among those men?” He said under his breath. She frowned at his statement.

“Mind you, it’s not a waste of time. And besides, it’s none of your bloody business.” She suddenly saw Harry chuckling, making her somewhat perplexed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, pulsed by his actions. He stopped momentarily, although left with a few traces of laughter.

“I didn’t know that a refined lady such as yourself swears.”

“Well…believe it.” She replied, her chin pointing high as she huffed a breath. Harry adored her lack of cooperation. It made her every bit more alluring.

“So, you did not answer my question.” He stated. She looked back at him.

“What question?”

“As to why you waste your time with hundreds of twats?” Her face morphed into a scowl once again.

“How rude of you! For you information, they are not twats! Actually, some of them are quite lovely. One of them is actually fairly attractive, and none of them-and I am thankful for this- isn’t anything like you.” Somehow, she had managed to say that in one breath, having that being a nice addition to her point. Yet, instead of seeing Harry pulsed, he seemed pretty calm by her insult.

“But my lady, you know nothing about me.” He stated simply. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but you’re very much predictable Harry.”

“How so?” He loved this conversation. It amused him to no end.

“Oh, please. You go through streets seducing innocent young daughters and miserable wives before leaving them empty handed the morning after. You use your charm and wit, and all that other ruddy traits that come with the package.”

“So I am witty and charming?” He asked, a grin forming on his face. Hermione squinted her face in confusion.

“No…I just added that for emphasis, is all.”

“Really now?” Harry quirked an eyebrow. Hermione gave a sigh, her palm landing onto her forehead. She was usually great with these kinds of dialogues, and usually, she always had the last word. Although something about him piqued her curiosity. He was clever. He was too clever, however, that it irritated her.

“If your goal is to seduce the daughter of the king, than I hate to disappoint you, but that is never to happen! Your silly charms do not work with me.” She exclaimed, slightly proud of her aggression. It was later on that she regretted saying such at all.

“Really…” Harry trailed off. He took hastened steps towards her, and she felt claustrophobic all of a sudden. She held her breath in, suddenly conscious of her appearance as he stood just inches away from her. He stare was intense, almost impenetrable, as she tried to avoid it by any means possible. He saw her hand clutch tightly onto the stone rail of the balcony, and noticed her hitched breaths by the movement of her chest. It rose gracefully, making his pupils dilate with desire. He would not touch her this time.

Teasing is a part of the game he played.

“What do you think you’re doing…! Stop this…” She stuttered slightly. He could already see the thin layer of sweat forming by her neck. It always started that way.

“I would not do anything to hurt you, princess.” He replied, keeping his voice in a low, bare whisper. The space between them was so minimal, that he felt her hot breath against his skin. She stood still, all the while having a hot blush creep all the way up to her cheeks. He leaned in slowly, yet tentatively, and he felt her breath stop short.

In a swift movement, he took a few haste steps back, before jumping over the balcony.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she stifled a scream.

Leaning over, she found him balancing just by the windowsill underneath. She let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“What do you think you’re doing!” She whispered fiercely at him.

“Just keep quiet and don’t say a word!”

“What do you mean ‘don’t say a word’?”

“Just do as I say Hermione!”

“What?”

“Lady Hermione?” Hermione twirled around gasping, only to find Rosa holding onto the scarf she had asked for moments ago.

“Rosa! Yes…why are you here?” She asked innocently. Rosa quirked an eyebrow.

“You asked me to fetch your scarf, miss.” Hermione glanced backwards once again, only to find Harry safely on the ground. He gave a small bow, with eyes intensely gazing at her, before walking briskly away. She hasn’t been that befuddled ever since…birth, honestly.

“Miss?” Rosa asked once more. Hermione turned to her once again, with eyes slightly dazed as she stared at the scarf in her slave’s hands.

“Oh. Thank you Rosa, but the heat has gotten the best of me. I wouldn’t need that anymore. My it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” She said quickly. Rosa, feeling slightly annoyed, merely nodded in reply.

“Very well, miss. We must go. You shall have breakfast with your father, yes?” Hermione nodded, all the while nibbling on her bottom lip. As both of them exited the room, Hermione couldn’t help but look back and wonder on what had just happened.

On the other side of the road, Harry’s grin grew wide as he strode past London, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. Halting a carriage, he rode quickly, before vanishing within the long and winding streets of Great Britain.

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A/N: Simple dialogue exchange between the two. It’s too early to let something happen, obviously. This, my friends, is a brainchild of a slightly major writer’s block, and a tv show obsession. It’s ruddy unhealthy, believe me.

Other than that, good day loves <3

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He blinked once.

Twice for good measure.

His head was heavy as he sat up with the least bit of enthusiasm present on his face. His hair was ruffled greatly by his nape, standing wildly in all directions possible. This is why he hated evenings. His pure loathing on the idea of waking up in the middle of the night, with the most unattractive of looks, made him quiver. He ever really liked evenings. Nothing ever occurred at these times. It is only in the middle of the night, midnight to be exact, that things most controversial and exciting happen.

By his side, a blonde young woman shifted in her sleep. Harry stared intently at her.

Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink from the cold, and her left breast hung loosely over the quilt. Her lips were parted slightly, still swollen from the morning’s events. An arm was raised just by her head, revealing the further curvature of her waist. Freckles spread across her arms, down to the curve of her stomach.

Harry glanced out the window, tantalized by the moon that shone brightly up in the sky. It was the same moon that saw him hiding beneath the shadows, watching her intently as numerous men surrounded her, giving winks and lines of flirtatiousness. It was also the same moon that saw the jealousy that sparked in his eyes as she gave the redhead a kiss on the cheek as he left.

He blinked thrice.

The anticipation of seeing her once again rose by his stomach. It was disquieting, and needy, that it somehow made him ache for her more. He envisioned her complete surrender to him, which only brought a grin to his face. At those moments, he did nothing but wish for her body to be entangled with his. His throat tightened at the mere thought.

The blonde moaned before opening her eyes slowly. The mattress moved slightly as she sat up, the quilt wrapping protectively over her bosom. He felt her hands travel up his back, before resting themselves idly on his shoulders. Her head nestled itself by his neck, her lips slowly traveling from his cheeks, down to the curve of his nape.

“I have to go.” He mumbled. She halted briskly, her hands falling from his shoulders and onto the mattress. He hadn’t really meant to be so upfront.

“Why? Must you?” She quipped. He now looked at her, his eyes still groggy from sleep. He looked at her, and the small laugh lines that were starting to form by her eyes. These wrinkles made her who she was to him. It was inevitable.

“Your husband will be home in an hour, Isabel. I cannot stay much longer.” Her bright silver eyes sparkled.

“What difference does it make? He spent his morning with his lover as well. Don’t I deserve my own?”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” His voice was monotonous, almost pulsed. It was then that Isabel bowed her head in shame.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.” She took a seat beside him, the quilt wrapping loosely around her petit frame. The night air passed by them silently, giving them both chills for a fraction of a second. They sat in silence, their breathing so audible that somehow, it echoed around her chambers.

“Sometimes, I wish that it was him in your position.” She spoke suddenly, just as tears fell to her cheeks silently. He sat still.

“I’m just a fantasy, Isabel.”

“You’re a lovely fantasy I’d want to live out.”

“You don’t want me. You want your husband.” He gave her a glance, only to find her eyes swollen with tears. He knew that she was knowledgeable about this fact as well. She used him—they all did. That’s why he exists in this world. To be used. To be that small infinitesimal fantasy for women whose hearts have swollen to the point of exploding. He lives to be their hero.

“But he’s not mine to want anymore.” They stared at each other, still and silent, feeling nothing but the air from the outside. With a heavy sigh, Harry turned fully to look at her, only to find her eyes deep in a befuddling daze. He tried to say something, yet the lust and desire in her eyes was so intense that he was left speechless.

“I must go.” He was able to mutter. He stood up, surprised by his own hesitancy, and clothed himself once again. Yet, it was the heat of her body that made him halt abruptly. She was standing behind him, with her hand tracing circles by his bare back. He felt the desperation in her touch, and the longing that has finally surfaced after years of misery.

“Just once more, Harry. Please.” He looked back at her, only to find himself thinking of the princess more and more. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her.

“…please.” She pleaded once more. He stood still, looking at her with the heaviest of gazes. Her laugh resounded in his head endlessly. He needed to see her.

“He left you a choice, Isabel.” He muttered. She looked perplexed.

“What are you talking about?” Her eyebrows furrowed heavily on her forehead. He threw on the last piece of clothing on the floor, before bowing in respect.

“Goodbye, Isabel.” She opened her mouth to rebut, yet he had already left. She looked down her window, only to find him staring back at her with the same perplexed eyes she had just moments ago. Finally, she knew what he meant.

&;

He watched her from the crevice of the garden wall.

She was sitting with Rosa by the gazebo at the center. She had a narcissus flower tucked tightly by her ear. The yellowness of it still seemed to glow amidst the darkness of the night, which still somehow illuminated her face. Rosa was seated beside her, petting a stray cat that lay comfortably within her arms. The cat purred audibly, making Hermione laugh all of a sudden.

Her laugh echoed through the garden, and the mere sound of it made him want to watch her even more.

“She likes you, Rosa.” He heard her say. Rosa gave back a meek smile.

“They are the slyest of creatures, my lady. And the most humble, may I add.” He saw Hermione smile softly at her, and for a fraction of a second, Harry felt his head go heavy. The moon revealed itself from its hiding place behind the clouds, quickly brightening the garden in mere seconds. Hermione glanced up, a larger smile forming on her features.

“Oh Rosa, it’s beautiful!” He heard her exclaim. The mere life in her eyes made him adore her even more. The very curve of her smile made her seem all the more perfect in his eyes. By her side, Rosa chose to smile with her as well.

“Yes it is, my Lady.”

“Oh, isn’t it lovely? It makes me want to tie a tight rope around it and keep it for myself.” A small smile crept up his lips. Rosa, although, seemed unamused.

“My lady, isn’t that selfish of you?” She exclaimed loudly. Hermione’s smile vanished quickly before his eyes.

“I was merely kidding, Rosa.” This small remark made him chuckle louder than he should. By the far end, Hermione’s face shifted to his direction. He hid by the crevice quickly, closing his eyes in frustration as he inwardly scolded himself. He must go unnoticed while her servant remained, he thought.

Slowly, her speech turned into mere whispers. He assumed that she knew of his presence by now.

Slowly, he peaked through the crevice once again. The sparkle of his spectacles caught Hermione’s attention. Her eyes widened visibly as she stared at his calm expression. He stared at her intently, and she at him, and for a moment, he had wished that Rosa never existed at those moments.

With his index finger to his lips, Hermione bit her bottom lip. It somehow amused him to see her so befuddled.

“Rosa?” He finally heard her say.

“Yes miss?”

“Would you fetch father a glass of water?” A grin played on his lips.

“But miss, he didn’t ask for one.” She glanced at him for a second’s time, before turning back to Rosa. Her eyebrows were furrowed deeply by her forehead. He assumed it was out of anxiety. Or maybe panic?

“Well, tell him I told you to give it to him out of daughterly love and concern. He must be tired anyway.” She cast another glance at him. He admired her gift for making up the best excuses.

“Right away, miss.” Rosa said, somehow unsure of her actions, before retreating from the garden’s premises. It was then that he saw her heave a sigh of relief, before standing up with an infuriated expression, and heading towards his direction. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned sideways onto the wall, both his hands folding by his chest.

“And just who gave you permission to enter the castle’s premises?” She said in a loud whisper, her face showing signs of clear aggravation. Harry seemed non-pulsed.

“Well princess, I must say, you must train your guards more. They left the gate unguarded for a full twenty minutes.” Her expression turned into awe.

“And you actually took advantage of the situation?” She sounded scandalized. Too scandalized, in fact, that it made Harry’s grin widen.

“Well, of course. Any common man would.”

“Common Stalker, you mean?” She retorted quickly. Harry chuckled.

“I'm insulted by the thought of you thinking I’m stalking you, my Lady.” She gave a snort.

“Then what do you call this?”

“Mere observance.”

“To the point of invading privacy?”

“Sometimes, you need to look closer to find what you’re looking for.”

“But you’re merely observing, not looking.”

“But why would you observe something if you’re not looking for anything?” She opened her mouth to reply, but ended up closing it again in defeat. He gave a satisfied smirk.

“Must you always win verbal fights like this?” She scrunched her nose in irritation.

“You make me win them, princess. The fault lands on you.” He quirked an eyebrow, soon making her huff a deep breath of frustration.

“You still haven’t told me your intentions.” She quipped. He shifted positions on the wall, now having his back resting lightly on the cold marble.

“I come as a mere visitor.”

“An unwanted one.” She mumbled under her breath. Harry looked at her amusedly, yet shockingly pulsed inside by her remark. Continuing, he spoke

“In addition, I think I left you hanging the other night—no pun intended.” To his surprise, she laughed. It was a soft, almost whispered laugh that somehow urged you to laugh as well.

“You could be a jester for my father.” She commented. He chuckled slightly.

“I’d be delighted to take the job. I’ve got a few jokes up my sleeves.”

“Oh, but I’d have to warn you. My father’s sense of humor needs a little tweaking.”

“Then I shall tweak it in your honor!” He exclaimed teasingly. Hermione laughed harder, and it was beyond her knowledge that Harry was staring intently at her as she did so. The flower in her hair loosened slightly, just as small strands of her hair fell loose from her bun. The night air made her skirt billow behind her, and the grass from her own garden tickled the soles of her bare feet. Her sheer white shirt clung loosely to her torso, revealing the maroon undershirt she worse underneath. Her cheeks were slightly flushed by the cold, just as her nose wrinkled as her laugh echoed through the garden. Harry concluded that this, by far, was the very epitome of lovely.

He hadn’t noticed her stop moments ago.

“Would you please stop staring at me? It’s rude.” She remarked. Harry, snapping from his reverie, chose to snigger under his breath.

“And this flatters you, yes?” She looked incredulous.

“How dare you!”

“Guards!” Hermione turned quickly, only to find Rosa screaming frantically behind her. Her eyes widened visibly.

“Rosa! Shhhh!” She whispered loudly.

“Guards! Quickly!” she continued to shout. It was only when Hermione placed her hand over the old woman’s mouth that she stopped completely. Rosa looked to the place Harry was in, only to find him bowing down to her. Her eyes looked fearful.

“Rosa, listen at me!” Hermione whispered fiercely. Rosa nodded carefully.

“You will never speak of this to father, do you hear me?” The old woman nodded again. The worry in Hermione’s tone was evident.

“Now Rosa, you must promise me that. Swear to the Almighty that you would not speak of what you saw!” Hermione stared at the old woman, who seemed to remain still. Seconds later, she nodded once more. Hermione gave a sigh of relief.

“Good. Now when I release of your mouth, you will neither talk nor scream. Is that clear?” Rosa nodded for the last time. Slowly, Hermione put her hand down to her side. Rosa was pale and flushed, with eyes still wide in fear.

Soon, an army of guards crowded the entirety of the garden, holding swords and axes within their palms.

“Where is he, princess?” The front liner asked. Hermione stuttered slightly.

“Men, I could explain. He’s-“ Looking back, she was left disappointed upon finding his spot empty as it was before. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. She glanced back at the guards, only to find them expectant and eager for an answer. She sighed.

“…imaginary.” She ended. She saw Rosa’s mouth open, and luckily, she was able to cast her a look before she was able to speak. The guards looked disappointed.

“With all due respect my Lady, but please. Do not call alerts such as this if you’re just looking for a laugh.” She nodded meekly.

“Yes, Chris. I apologize. You may go now.” She said, instantly receiving a bow from each man in the courtyard. She curtsied in respect as they all stood and retreated back to their headquarters once again. It was then that Rosa spoke fiercely.

“Princess, how dare you accept strangers into this castle! It is unbecoming!” Hermione instantly looked defensive.

“It is not your place to tell me what and what not to do, Rosa! You have no right to tell me what to do!” By this, the old woman seemed pulsed.

“I may be a slave miss, but I’ve been yours since your birth. I think that gives me at least an infinitesimal right to tell you what and what’s not right.” Rosa said in finality, before leaving Hermione in the cold. She stood there alone, her hands folding across her chest as the night air swept past her. Each encounter with him drove her more curious each time. Somehow, as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

By the other side of the wall, Harry leaned coolly, holding a narcissus flower within his palms.

He would see her again.

He promised himself that.

&;

A/N: I deserve to be chased by a mob holding deadly sporks and other cutlery. Honestly. As my school life started once again, I almost forgot about this beloved brainchild of mine. For this, I apologize. I guess I’ll leave you guys with the responsibility of alerting me once in a while. I hope this one was worth it though. I sincerely hope it was. If it wasn’t, sue me for recklessness and sloth. Really.