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“Happy eighteenth birthday, Your Highness. Your radiant beauty outshines the luminous moon tonight.”
Harriet hid her face behind an ornate bejewelled fan, grimacing as the courtier brushed his chapped lips against her gloved knuckles.
“Thank you, Draco. May the rest of your evening be pleasant.”
As he walked away, the princess hastily wiped her scarlet glove on her gold-embroidered, deep red ballgown. Sighing, she picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Her aunt had truly outdone herself, she mused. The sparkling crystal chandeliers had been polished and the floor gleamed like a mirror. The gentle moonlight and flickering candles lit up the entire ballroom with a mellow ambiance. The lilting melody of violins and harps filled the air, the music well-chosen.
All in the hopes that she choose a man to wed.
She sipped, hoping that the alcohol would give her the strength to survive the evening, false poetic compliments, gold diggers and all.
Harriet watched Queen Petunia spin on the dance floor with the King, perfectly in sync with the lively waltz the orchestra played. Taking another swig of her champagne, she idly contemplated if her aunt’s anger was worth escaping the dreadful ball.
“Your Majesty!”
A handsome, well built young man was making his way towards her, taking confident steps, an arrogant smirk in place.
Gulping down the rest of her champagne, Harriet turned and ran.
He thundered in, slamming the door shut. An ugly frown on his portly face, he paced back and forth.
“Harriet, you do not run away from your own ball. It is unacceptable . You had one objective for the evening, just the one...” He massaged his temples.
“I told you, uncle. I am not going to wed.”
The King stopped pacing. Whipping around, he glared at the princess, who was sitting at her oak desk, with narrowed eyes. He balled his hands into fists and pointed a fat finger at her, leaning forward. “You are eighteen, two years past the ideal age for marriage. You are going to marry. Heavens help me, if you don’t choose a suitable groom, I will.”
Harriet felt a knot form in her stomach. Choosing her next words carefully, she said, “Uncle, I’ve told you on multiple occasions, I am not ready to get married. I-”
He slammed his fist on the oak desk.“This is not about whether you are ready or not! You have to marry. It is tradition . Never have we had a girl in our family who remained,” her uncle’s face twisted with contempt as he spat the words out, “a spinster ! Is there someone you think we will not approve of? Is that why you are so intent on remaining unwed?”
“No- that’s not- there’s-”
“Then what is your problem ? You have completed your studies, learnt everything a princess should, and, against my best wishes, you have also learnt many a thing princesses should not.” Vernon seethed at her, “Pray, tell me why you wish to leave this kingdom without an heir.”
“I- uh-”
“SILENCE! When you wanted to learn to read, I said nothing. When you wanted to learn archery, I held back. When you refused to marry on your sixteenth and seventeenth birthday, I allowed you to do as you pleased. Now you want to never marry? Just look at how selfish you are!”
“I’m not!”
“Princesses do not interrupt. Forgetting all your lessons? Is this how you’ll rule the kingdom? Is this how you’ll be a good wife and mother?”
“If you’d just let me explain-”
“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO-”
“I’m lesbian.”
“You cannot.”
“I am the Queen, your aunt, and the person who has raised you. I can do this. You will marry the Prince of Slytherin.”
“But aunt-”
Petunia turned to look her in the eye. Instead of angry and humiliated, she looked… disappointed. When she spoke, her brows were knitted and her voice was low, laced with dejection.
“I love you and stand up for you. I gave you your first book and your first tiara. I took care of you after your parents passed away. You can give this much to me. This is all I have ever asked of you. Can you not even give me that?”
Harriet hung her head, holding back tears, wanting to scream, Yes, it’s too much, I can’t take it. There was a hollow ache inside her chest, her mind reeled as the idea that her entire life was never going to be the same again sunk in. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“If… if I may be excused...” Her voice came out weaker than she felt, breaking from emotion.
Not waiting for a reply, she turned and fled, barely managing to hold her sobs back as she raced from the Queen’s balcony.
She ran, satchel in hand, bow and arrow slung on her shoulder. Skidding over the muddy ground, she halted in front of Hedwig. The Lusitano whinnied as she petted her.
“Long journey ahead, Hedwig. You up to it?” Feeding her a sugar cube, she wasted no time in saddling her. Just a few moments and she’d be… free.
Free from marriage.
Free from her uncle and aunt.
Free from her responsibilities.
Just thinking about it made her feel giddy with excitement and guilt. Maybe she could lead a new life as a stable help. Or a baker, or maybe even a governess.
Taking Hedwig by the reins, she led her out of the stables. The prince was supposed to arrive any moment, which meant everyone was preparing for His Majesty’s welcome.
Smoothing out her plain cotton dress and brown hooded cloak, she swiftly seated herself on Hedwig and began to sneak out of the castle, hiding in the shadows and crouching behind walls.
Just as she was about to reach the back gate, she turned around, wanting to drink in the sight of what had been her prison.
And saw the most drop-dead gorgeous woman she’d ever seen looking at her.
She stared.
How could she not? Everything about her, from her smooth, wavy dark hair to her slim nose, sculpted and delicate-looking ears to her thin, slightly parted lips was, simply put, perfect. Harriet felt a warmth blooming on her skin; her face, her neck, her chest.
She stared.
Her eyes were beautiful. Never before had she thought of black eyes as sultry, but against her pale alabaster skin, she could feel the heat they gave off in waves. She felt something curl low in her belly, a wonderful and terrifying tingle racing through her.
She stared.
Oh, this beautiful angel had very light freckles as well. Harriet grinned stupidly as she tried to count them. The scent of citrus and the sea clouded her senses as she wondered what it would feel like to kiss every one of those freckles.
She stared.
Someone was saying something, but that wasn’t important. Everything faded away till the only thing she could focus on was her face, every freckle, every twitch. Her lips were moving, and oh, her beautifully sharp teeth would look so good scraping against Harriet’s own tan skin…
“... are you even listening to me?”
Reality crashed over her. She blinked, once, twice. The beautiful woman was standing right in front of her. Sometime in her haze, Harriet had missed her walking up to her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Must be… the heat.”
She frowned, looking up to the cloudy sky, then peering at Harriet’s rubescent face.
“... You do look a little flushed. Anyway, I was wondering where the ambassador is. He was supposed to introduce my entourage,” she jerked her head backward, indicating the short train of caravans and carriages, which Harriet had not noticed before, “and myself to the royal family of Gryffindor.”
Her heart hammered like a wild beast against her chest. Her mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. A tiny sliver of curiosity edged its way into her lust-hazed mind.
“If,” she cleared her throat and swallowed, “If, I may know what business you have with the royal family?”
The woman looked at her, features adorably scrunching up with confusion and suspicion.
“I am Princess Thomasine of Slytherin, here to ask for permission to court Princess Harriet of Gryffindor.”
“Princess!”
Broken out of her stupor, she turned. Her maidservant ran up to her, huffing, with a worried look on her face.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, what are you doing here? With your horse? All alone? Their Highnesses are having the castle searched for you!” As if she had just noticed what Harriet was wearing, she pursed her lips with disapproval. “Oh dear, we must get you into an appropriate gown to greet the Prince.”
Harriet felt her heart drop to her stomach. Unless she came up with something quick, she wouldn’t be able to run away after all. If she hadn’t run into the Princess and decided to show her the way to the main gates, she would have been out of the city by then.
“Winky? Why don’t you go ahead? I have to… take Hedwig out for… getting her shoes.” Even as she said it, she cringed. Hedwig’s shoes were made by the royal blacksmiths, delivered directly to the stables. She had no need to go and get her shoes.
Winky shook her head. “You need to be there to welcome the Prince. No excuses, Your Majesty. We have no time to lose. That red velvet gown you haven’t worn... ”
Harriet tuned the musings of her maidservant out, eyes slightly glazed as she saw the glimmer of freedom disappear.
Her attention snapped back into the real world as she heard her aunt pointedly clear her throat.
“How do you feel about this, my dear? Will you be satisfied, being married to a,” the Queen looked distinctly uncomfortable, “woman?”
Ah. Yes.
The slight issue of there not being a Prince of Slytherin, and her aunt and uncle mistaking Princess Thomasine to be Prince Thomas in their haste. The King and Queen couldn’t say no outright without offending the Kingdom of Slytherin, and so the task of declining the request of courtship had fallen onto her shoulders.
Her uncle gave her a pointed look.
“I-”
Harriet did not know what to say. Her heart leapt and her spine tingled whenever she looked at Princess Thomasine and caught her trying to discreetly stare. That wasn’t to say that she was fine with marrying a stranger, but at the very least she wasn’t marrying a man. The only other option was running away, which she didn’t even know if she could, seeing as she had wasted the one time she knew everyone in the palace would be too busy to notice her sneaking out.
“Yes, darling?” the Queen pressed.
“I-”What did she have to lose? Her aunt and uncle couldn’t refuse the courtship with the alliance of a powerful kingdom like Slytherin on the line, and if she said no, she would be forced to marry a prince.
She took a deep breath. This was her best chance.
“I accept your request of courtship, Princess Thomasine of Slytherin.”
Thomasine smirked.
Her euphoric grin slid off her face.
“What. Have. You. Done?!” Vernon’s face was blotchy and pale with barely suppressed fury as he hissed the words at Harriet.
Harriet looked down at her folded hands. Her head was still buzzing as the gravity of what she had done sunk in. She clenched, unclenched her fist. Hold your tongue back , she chanted to herself.
Hold your tongue, hold your tongue, hold your damn tongue …
Petunia spoke with her back turned, as if she couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “Darling, why did you choose to do this to us? To the kingdom? To yourself? Being attracted to women is not right. It’s not natural, and you know it, sweetheart. ”
Hold your tongue, hold your tongue …
Harriet forcefully let out a drawn out breath, feeling a storm of emotions devour her. There was an aching sadness at being unaccepted and told that she was, in a way, broken or abnormal, but there was also an unmistakable flame of anger licking her chest.
“It’s just some fanciful notion, my sweet. Let go of it. Open your eyes. Women are made to wed men. They are made to bear heirs, and be self sacrificing above all else. This is not what you are. You cannot defy nature, darling.”
Petunia knelt and cradled her face in her hands, looking into her eyes. Her voice was low and consoling, as if soothing a troubled and obstinate child.
“Tell me you’re going to let go of this delusion that women can be and should be attracted to women and that you’re going to tell the Princess of Slytherin that your inclinations lie elsewhere.”
Hold your tongue, hold your tongue…
Harriet thought of being married to a prince of a powerful kingdom. She thought of her aunt’s and uncle’s happy faces at her wedding. She thought of herself smiling at her husband’s side, laying with him, bearing him children.
She looked up from her lap into her aunt’s eyes and brought her hand up to Petunia’s. Her expression was firm and determined, eyes shining with hurt and angry unshed tears.
“No.”