The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Four

At the night, when the moon came in the darkest time, Harry couldn't sleep, though the bed was well enough and the heat was gentle enough. Rolling over, his eyes flashed upon Lucy, wondering if her eyes would open again tonight, if whatever terror would return to haunt her. He waited, wanting to help her if it came again. His eyes focused on her for the longest time, how easily her chest went up and down, how calm she was. She didn't wake. Harry rolled over again, closing his eyes. There was silence.

Lucy sat up straight in the bed, chest not moving wildly and no screaming. Being away made it better; it made her calmer. Her fingers curled into hair, running along her hairline; she threw the thick hair back only to pull it over her skin again, like a scarf. Her eyes found the ceiling, calling to the sky. Pulling the covers to her chin again under the hazardous heat, she fell back onto the bed softly, closing her eyes. She fell back into the abundant abyss of her dreams.

Harry heard her, the rise of her on the bed and the fall down again. Once again, he didn't reach out to comfort her, ask if anything was wrong, to try to help. All the training he had from the military didn't help him here. Whatever made her scared, petrified him. She was perfectly calm, dragged to the surface, forced to stare forward and then she found the ceiling, and she always felt back down. He shifted in the bed to watch her again, perfectly asleep, like nothing happened. She recovered quickly. She was strength. Harry followed her, dropping off into abundant abyss.

Lucy was up again, not as quiet as before even though she tried, and Harry watched her. She brushed her hair out, which frizzed and was put into a pony, covering her shoulders. Her shirt was already pulled over; he wouldn't get another glimpse of the scar. But as she brushed her hair back, upon her hairline, another scar. Lucy bent down to tie her shoes and caught him staring.

"Good morning," she smiled, not taken off guard by his lazy glazed eyes. She thought that he was still half asleep, but Harry thought she found out. Redness glowed on his skin, and Lucy ignored it. "Meet me at the schoolhouse when you're ready." She left, not glancing back.

"Why so many scars?" he murmured to himself. Harry wasn't stupid, maybe not educated in women like Lucy but he wasn't stupid. The scar on her back was familiar but the hairline scar wasn't. He rolled out of bed.

When Harry met Lucy in the schoolhouse, she had already finished teaching the adults and started writing upon the board. He was quiet but she knew he was there. "What would you like to teach today?" she asked, and Harry stopped. "You taught something yesterday."

"You put me on the spot."

"You didn't like it?"

"No, I didn't."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Honestly, yes."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

Lucy placed her hands on her hips. "You have no problem being sassy, but you have a problem teaching. Is it because you have to actually think about what you're going to say?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel as if you're being judged when you have to be 'smart'?"

Harry paused, unsure how he wanted to answer. He knew that Lucy was smart, able to pick out the small little moments and hesitation, to put the tiny dots together. Harry didn't want to answer honestly, but he knew Lucy already measured him. Whatever he said, truth or lie, she knew.

She moved on, "Listen, Harry, say what you like. But these kids aren't going to judge you."

"Are you?"

"I judge you, but I judge everyone." She shrugged. "I don't judge you like I'm sure you're used to, mostly because it's none of my business and I couldn't care less." She reached out and touched his shoulder gently, tentatively, unsure how he would react to such a thing. "You shouldn't care what others say and what they think. You're the only one that knows your self-worth." She dropped her hand, writing on the blackboard again. "What will it be?"

"I'll do history. It's easy."

"It does always repeat." She curled her letters. "If you need help, let me know."

"You don't think I know history?"

"I think you know enough, but everyone needs help here and there."

Harry was unable to respond for a moment. Who was she and why did she talk to him like that? There was a correct answer. "Thanks."

She laughed at him. "Everyone needs a friend." Her long legs carried her off to the other side of the schoolhouse, deciding to change something else in the room, and Harry couldn't say anything else about the situation.

When the students came in, Lucy went straight into teaching and Harry followed her with wherever she went, but this time, in total horror of Harry and love of Lucy, she gave freedom to him to teach, taking over more tasks. He had been told that it would take a month for them to be equals, but Lucy moved it upward, trying to fit into a week. Harry, unsure how to handle this change, trusted Lucy enough to wherever they ended up; she was so sure of what she was doing. Like before, she put him on the spot, making him feel as if he was a student again, which he didn't like. In school, he didn't have the specialties of the others, whereupon now, this situation repeated. Lucy was still a nicer teacher. Eventually, Harry jumped into cause with Lucy, finding it easy as she led the way.

When the students left for the day, Lucy turned to Harry again, finally as a friend. "You did good today."

"You had doubts?"

"You don't like to be put on the spot, and I did that."

"Will you continue to do it?"

"Absolutely." She smiled, her hair falling around her shoulders. She cleaned the board before Harry took over to do it for her, and she sat down across from him. "What brings you out here, Prince Charming?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why this charity?"

"The Monarchy deals with many charities and I like this one, so I came here." He dared to ask, "How about you?"

"I wanted to help out."

"So, you came to the middle of Africa?"

"Change is good." Her eyes traveled across the ground, searching for something so intently that the next question Harry asked her went unnoticed; he called for her before he turned around her. Her eyes focused elsewhere, off to the distance of the past, the look she had in the night, and then she recovered. "That's enough cleaning for now, Harry. All of this will be here tomorrow."

Harry glanced back at the board; he had only cleaned half. "Are you sure?"

"Don't let the little things bother you." She walked out the door, and Harry always followed her.