Red & White

thirty five.

As fast as the commotion stopped, it came back in the next second, louder than before. She could hear the distant sound of thick boots thumping loudly on the concrete ground.

It was familiar, but she knew it wasn't a soldier. That sound haunted her mind. The creek of the metal belt strapped across the fine leather refused to escape her thoughts. The soldiers' specific shoe noise was all-too familiar.

This was different.

This was crisp, clear, fresh, expensive.

Leah's mouth parted, anticipation seeping through her bones. Fear mixed with anxiety trickled in her bloodstream.

From the corner of the cell, the girl perked up from her huddle when the shouting of the two men seemed to be coming closer.

What possessed her to inch forward she did not know. But she was thankful for that possession. Because as she did so, a scent slithered its way into her nose. It smelled of the warm fire that crackled every night in his bedroom. It smelled of his cologne, his body, his warm embrace. It smelled of him.

Leah stayed especially quiet as her shaky feet cooperated well enough for her to stand. She was wobbly, but hastily maneuvered the small space to the front bars. Her hands gripped the cool metal. The girl peered into the darkness of the dungeon corridor. She could just barely make out a flicker of a torch coming this direction from a distance.

She held her breath, eyeing it as it came closer. With the brightness of the torch, again, came the scraping of the boots and the scent and a harsh voice. He was being dragged.

It's not him, she repeated over and over in her head. It can't be him, it's not him.

Her feet shook on the damp ground. Closer...closer the torch and the yelling came. Leah could hear her fellow jail mates arising from their nightly slumber due to the ruckus.

"Leah!" she finally heard through the constant shouting between the two men. One was most definitely dragging the other down the dark corridor.

Her eyes squinted in hopes to make out the figures.

Then the legs appeared, being illuminated by the torch. Her gaze traveled up his body. She saw the black boots, the tight black pants that hugged him perfectly, then the loose white shirt, and the warm face.

It was him.

"Harry," she could just barely say, her mouth dry and pasty. The girl hurriedly licked her lips and swallowed multiple times in hopes that it would lubricate her throat.

"Leah!" he shouted again into the open air, just in front of her cell. She noticed his strong hands being wrapped together in a grasp behind his back, held by a soldier. He looked a prisoner. His hair was loosely flopped over his forehead.

"Harry!" Leah yelled in return, shaking the bars profusely to gain his attention. Unwelcomed tears streamed down her red cheeks.

His head snapped in the direction of her voice. The Prince's eyes widened in surprise when he saw her features behind the bar. Her face was sunken in, with a desperate need of kisses and some real food. The warmth in her blue eyes was still prominent, however, and he loved it.

"LEAH! Oh my god, Leah!" he cried out, thrashing in the soldier's grip. He managed to backtrack a few feet in his fight, but the soldier maintained the full force. The Prince was now past her cell.

Her small body attempted to squeeze through the thin bars on the cell door, but she did not fit. Leah desperately reached her hand towards him.

Harry could see the fear in her eyes, and with all his might, pushed backwards. His hand whipped out of the soldier's hold and clasped on to Leah's.