The Brightest Sun

Chapter 18

The Ministry’s budget had tanked, the Department of International Magical Cooperation managing to prove how harmful it would be to their economy, and in their haze of celebration it had taken Harry an embarrassingly long while to realize that something was bothering Elia.

He had eased back on his Wizengamot duties, attending the monthly sessions with Elia and leaving most other matters to Neville. Glad to see the back of those months of politicking, Harry had thrown himself into making certain the children were enjoying themselves.

Teddy’s sixth birthday was in a few days, and with them not knowing where Aegon and Rhaenys’s birthdays fell on their calendar, Harry might have gone a touch overboard in buying gifts. The days leading up to his son’s birth were always a mix of joy and melancholy, and Harry wanted to push aside the gloom he knew would hit him full force in a few short weeks.

Now though, now he was worried over what could be bothering the normally unflappable woman.

He found her in the study near her rooms, a room she had commandeered once they began working together on the Wizengamot. There were other bits of parchment dedicated to Westeros; drawings of alliances and the potential state of the country, small notes for any improvements Elia could think of.

Aegon would be king, and she was determined her son be the greatest king the Seven Kingdoms had seen.

He leaned against the door, watching as she bent over a parchment, hand moving to scrawl notes from the thick tome open on her desk. Occasionally, she would exchange words with one of the portraits on the wall, their voices too low for him to make out what was being said, though he was glad they got on well.

He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for her to acknowledge him before he entered. She glanced up, something dark flashing in her eyes as she waved him in.

Worry clawed at him, and he said lightly, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said, turning back to her book.

Raising a brow in surprise, Harry sauntered over to the chair across from her, leaning against the table as he stared at her in surprise.

“Elia,” he said lowly, hesitating before he sat in the chair.

She did not look up for some time, and the longer he waited the more Harry realized that whatever was bothering her involved him.

“Have I done something to offend you?”

“Why do you think that?” she asked instead.

Pursing his lips, he held back a glare. On any other day he would have welcomed any banter, but he was more worried than open to a verbal spar.

“You’ve gone out of your way to avoid me,” he stated dryly. “A remarkable feat considering we share a house and eat at the same table.”

“As I said, I have been busy these past few weeks,” she said curtly.

“Will you look at me?” Harry asked, his irritation growing as she glowered darkly at him before returning to her books.

“Is there anything I can help you with? I have more work to do,” she said in a clipped voice, and Harry felt a flare of anger at her words.

“Is that what this is about?” he demanded.

At his words, she finally closed her book; face blank as her eyes pierced his with a cool stare.

“The budget issue has been resolved,” he said irritatedly.

“Far be it from me to detail your duties to you, my lord,” she quipped sarcastically.