The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Two

Harry had talked nicely to Lucy that night, meeting more people. Usually, he met people once, only had to utter their name once, maybe see them again that night if it was a gala or maybe never again in passing. These people, whom he should be with for the next three months, he barely knew the names, in one ear and out the other, yet Lucy knew every name by heart. She had been here a month but still, it was so easy for her. Lucy fell asleep easy, not pushing him for extra conversation or even nice conversation. Harry wondered maybe if he had been rude to her somehow. In the night, he didn't sleep, with her even breaths near him, perfectly asleep. That didn't last long.

Lucy sat up straight on her cot, breath barely there, sucked out of the room through the windows. Her hand pressed to her head. Her eyes met the ceiling still, pinpointed on the creation, like she saw through the ceiling and into the galaxy. Lucy took a shaking breath before lying on the bed again. She shook, and then somehow, she fell back asleep.

Harry had watched all of this, hadn't even moved, hadn't spoken; his eyes had been on her the whole time. Panic had risen in him, like she might have been dying and he hadn't reached out to help her. Maybe she had been dying and he didn't save her. He could have asked her if she was all right, offered some assistance, but he chose to stay still. Lucy had fallen apart and put herself back together in a matter of seconds, done by just looking up. To her, what was up there? Lucy was now back asleep and Harry felt himself do the same, going into the shaking sleep.

Lucy was up when he woke up, dressed and ready to go, not caring for the girlish things, like makeup or nice hair. He wasn't a prince to her.

Harry had been treated this way before, especially when a girl wanted something from him. There were many ways to go about this toward him, to be all over him or to not care at all were the extremes. He thought maybe Lucy leaned toward the latter. Though, there was at least some hint there that she liked him; here, it wasn't like she hated him but like she was indifferent.

Harry hadn't moved, his eyes barely open when he caught her as she pulled down her tank top, her exposed back, a scar like a cross, less than a second before the fabric covered it. Lucy didn't notice and Harry shut his eyes again. It wasn't his business, but he had seen a scar like that before. There was nothing sexual about the way he looked at her, no hunger to touch her of any sort, but rather curiosity of her life story. This was what it felt like to be a reporter.

When Harry played the card of waking up, he played too well, and Lucy was suspicious on time. Nothing was said from her besides a nice good morning and telling him that he needed to get up now for breakfast, they had work to do. Harry followed her requests, though Lucy left to give him privacy to change and do his morning routine, no one looked at his back.

Entering into the sunlight, already burning the pale, Lucy had started teaching the few students who showed up early, even before Harry, the parents and adults who wanted to know. She wrote on the chalkboard, her words half cursive and half straight, tilted with the S's, dangerous with the straightness. Her handwriting was almost Lucy's personality to him: things yet known with cursive, things known were little in straight, the S's were her sass, and the straightness of up and down represented her timing. Lucy was a creature of habit, which he knew within less than a day of knowing her. Once again, she didn't look at him, and once again, he stayed in the back.

The parents left and Harry walked forward. "Why do you never look at me when I walk in?" he asked.

Lucy arched an eyebrow. "You think very highly of yourself." Harry waited. "Maybe you should tone it down." She cleaned the board and Harry waited again. "Yes?"

Instead of getting into a confrontation on the second day, he chose his words carefully, "When will the children be in?"

"A few minutes, I'm sure. They come every day, sunshine or sunshine. They like to learn."

He sighed.

"What?" she asked, now writing on the board, the lesson plan at full.

"You're mean to me."

"Would you like me to stop?"

"Are you mean to everyone?"

"Yes."

"So, you're mean to me."

"You're part of everyone."

Harry laughed, deciding that was the first time someone had ever said that to him. "Will you continue this?"

"I don't see why not." Lucy finished and brushed her hands off on her pants. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Good." She moved around him.

"Would you like to know why?"

The answer would usually be no. She wanted to say no, but she didn't want to take away all of his hope in the first week. "Sure."

"I like sass."

"Do you?"

"May I tell you a secret?"

Once again, Lucy let him when the answer usually would be no.

"I'm sassy."

"I had no idea," she said, "especially with the last sixteen hours I've been spending with you." Lucy fixed something on the desk and then stopped. "Harry, do something."

"Like what?"

"Look over the lesson plan. You act as if you've never been to school."

"Maybe I haven't. Ever thought about that?"

"I'm not stupid, Harry. I know about Britain and I know about you, whatever makes the U.S. national news. I just don't have a crush on you."

Harry was almost hurt by that, such an absurd lie. "Did you ever have a crush on me?"

Lucy sighed. "I barely know you, Prince Charming, but sure, when I was younger, when I was innocent...."

Harry had sensed the sudden anxiety in Lucy's voice, the way she tensed when the question was asked. As she spoke, she jumped at the sudden thoughts of being younger, when she was innocent, before the scar on her back Harry thought. Whatever crush that once young and innocent Lucy had was replaced by the fear that she now lived in.

"What happened?" he dared to ask.

Without missing a beat, she spoke, "You have your secrets and I have mine."