Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones.
Cold Night, Warm Hearts
Hermione rubbed her arms for some warmth and lifted her gaze to the darkened sky, watching as snowflakes fell down in tiny white crystals on the empty street. It was already six in the evening and she had been standing outside there for half an hour, enduring the harsh chilling wind beating against her exposed skin. The library, in compliance of their 8AM - 5 PM schedule, had long gone close behind her to seek refuge. As usual, like any other day where her day wasn't filled with classes, she spent her entire day tucked into the corner of the public library with a book under her nose. She was oblivious of the time that had gone past until the librarian had found and informed her that it was closing time. She hadn't even noticed that it had begun snowing until she passed through the doors.
She rubbed her hands, trying to garner heat from friction, before she tucked them under her armpits in a meager attempt to gather warmth. In her haste that morning to go to the library, she had forgotten to bring a coat with her and had only realized it was missing as soon as she was dropped off. Now she was suffering the consequences. In her defense, she didn't think that it would snow this early this time of the year especially since it was still the third week of September; it usually occurred on the first or second week of October.
Her fingers and toes were already numb and her breath came out in white puffs because of the cold. The lampposts in the street – including the one she was standing under – were her only source of light. She didn't know how much longer it would take for Harry Potter, her best friend since childhood, to arrive. He promised to pick her up soon enough because their other best friend, Ron Weasley, had a date with Lavender Brown of all people, and thus he reasoned that it was Harry's turn to act as a driver for Hermione. Since she refused to take a driver's test and get a license — something that the boys still liked to pester and tease her with — her best friends and taken it upon themselves to give car rides to Hermione whenever she chose to spend the day out of her rooms which was few and far between.
Their arrangements worked out well for them considering that they all lived in the same apartment complex called The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was now living with Ron's younger sister, Ginny Weasley, in the two-bedroom apartment of room 19 while three boys opted to live together in the same two-bedroom apartment in room 21. Even though that Hermione was closer and more comfortable with her boys than with Ginny, she admitted to herself that she couldn't handle living with them for another year after she'd been subjected to their lifestyles for far too long. Ginny Weasley was an angel in disguise when she decided to study in Hogsmeade and she stayed with them.
She might love her boys but she didn't love them that much.
She took her phone out of her pocket and ignored the way her hand trembled as she tried to type a message to Harry. The message failed to deliver though and she groaned when she saw that there wasn't any signal, most probably because of the weather. Her last message to Harry was twenty minutes ago and she was standing there for nearly forty-five minutes. Unfortunately for Hermione, she hadn't brought her wallet with her so she couldn't take a Knight Bus back to The Leaky Cauldron. She had planned to stay in the library all day so it seemed futile to bring money when she knew she didn't need any of it. However, right now, she really was cursing herself for her shortsightedness; and Harry. She was definitely cursing Harry at the moment.
She could not, for the life of her, understand why Harry had chosen to be late now — in this unfortunate time, no less! — when he was normally so punctual; and when she meant punctual, she meant earlier than Ron who was branded the laziest person alive and who had made her wait for an hour and thirty-eight minutes the last time he was supposed to be the one who picked her up. She certainly didn't want a repeat of the experience.
She heard a noise from her right; a door creaking open and loudly shutting close. She risked a glance to find a young man stepping out of the building next to the library, looking at his phone in obvious frustration if his pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows were any indication. She looked away and quickly shuffled to the left, toeing at the edge of the light, trying to be as little as possible to avoid unwanted attention. With her 5'4" height, it wasn't a hard feat. It didn't escape her notice that the man who came out of the bar – a bar(!) that next to the library of all places – was The Three Broomsticks.
She didn't know much about the bar. It only opened after five which was a blessing considering that its neighbor was the library. She had only gone once when Ginny asked her because the redhead wanted to watch a band play called The Weird Sisters. It turned out that the band was popular and when they arrived, it was already too late as the crowd almost swallowed the bar whole. The experience left nothing to be desired. The lights were in different bright colors that danced around the slightly dim room, making her head pound and ache, and the booming music from the band, and the deafening screams were pure nonsensical noise. As soon as they arrived, Ginny left her in favor of three cross dressing rock stars while she had gone to the bar counter and sat there the entire night, nursing a cherry coke that Ginny had recommended to her because she didn't like the taste of alcoholic beverages much.
She sat there the whole time with no one to talk to and nothing to do because the bartender was cheering for the band on stage and she didn't bring any books with her. Needless to say, it was quite an uneventful night and when it was all over, she vowed to never come back and subject herself to that torture again. That didn't stop Ginny from coming back though, especially when she found out that The Three Broomsticks featured different kinds of popular bands every month.
Ginny was quite upset when Hermione refused to join her the second time but she eventually conceded to the brunette's wishes. The two of them were very different and although they'd known each other for a long time, being childhood friends and all, they didn't enjoy the same things and didn't have the same interests in life. It was a miracle itself that she remained friends with Ginny for so long. Hermione didn't enjoy bar hopping, partying, drinking, or meeting new strangers and Ginny, as much as she loved her, didn't quite understand that. Ginny wasn't afraid to be adventurous, always living on the edge and unpredictability, while Hermione preferred to live in comfort and stability.
The young man who came out of the bar, who had his phone pressed to his ear, suddenly started speaking in a foreign language that she didn't understand but could easily recognize due to her taking Linguistics to satisfy her bookworm curiosity and urges. She was studying at one of the most prestigious schools in Hogwarts known as Hogwarts Academy. She was a Sophomore along with Ron and Harry, while Ginny was a Freshman. The Academy was based at Hogsmeade, the capital city of Hogwarts, and it was part of the reason why they were renting an apartment because the school was miles away from Godric's Hollow, their hometown. The Academy did have dorms but only to those who had full and partial scholarships and although Hermione was a scholar herself, she decided to stay with her friends than to stay in the dorms that were full of strangers.
If she wasn't mistaken, the language that he spoke was High Valyrian. It meant that the man was either a foreigner from Dragonstone or Valyria or had Valyrian ancestry in his family which could make him bilingual or multilingual. He spoke the beautiful language fluently, so who knew? She also noted his accent which she knew was from Westeros, a continent across Hogwarts that was separated by the large Black Lake sea. So, he was a foreigner then and was likely visiting the area. If not, then maybe he recently moved to Hogsmeade from Westeros and was maybe studying at Hogwarts. Although she had never seen him around the campus before.
She hummed to herself. Maybe he was a transferee? Or maybe an exchange student?
A strong gust of freezing wind blew and whipped her thick hair to her face, making her yelp in shock. Her vision was obscured by brown curls that she couldn't tame no matter how many hair care products Ginny insisted that she used. She huffed and lifted her trembling hands to push her hair back away from her face, her flushed cheeks heating some more in embarrassment. She was glad no one had seen that.
"Excuse me, Miss, but are you alright?"
Hermione's spine stiffened when she heard the accented voice and her lips curled. He couldn't be asking her now, could he? She slowly craned her neck and looked at the stranger who spoke and her breath hitched when their eyes connected. Now that she wasn't sneaking glances and was now fully looking at him, she could honestly say without any shame whatsoever that he was probably the most beautiful man that she had ever seen before. With the help from the yellow glow of the lamppost behind her, the light gave him an unearthly presence that ensnared anyone who was caught into his intricate webs. Hermione, unfortunately, was not immune.
He was waiting for her to speak but for the first time in Hermione's life, she was struck speechless; and it wasn't because of some pointless debate that she wanted to win, but it was because of someone's physique that she had once thought that she was above noticing. The man, however, proved her wrong. He was so attractive to the point of ridiculousness. His shoulder length hair was like the snow that had gathered under their feet, white and soft looking; his square jaw was chiseled and strong. He had an aristocratic nose that was above shapely pinkish lips that were thin at top but full at the bottom. His skin was ivory and was as smooth as porcelain and his almond shaped eyes had irises with a clear and soft lilac color that she was certain wasn't contact lenses.
She knew she was gaping at him but she hadn't found it within her to stop. She never blatantly ogled someone before but he was definitely the exception. She wouldn't call him 'hot' because it seemed lacking to describe someone with a face like his. He was wearing an unzipped black jacket, a simple red shirt with a black three headed dragon logo printed on the front, and black fitted jeans and shoes. His shirt was fit, the fabric pulled taut across his chest, and his legs and arms were toned and muscled. She almost choked in her saliva when she noted the subtle ripple of his muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes.
Draco Malfoy, with all of his slicked platinum blond hair, pointy face, and silver eyes glory, and whom she thought was insanely pretty with his almost feminine features, just couldn't compare to this phenomenon in front of her.
His eyebrows – thick, and shapely, and as white as his hair – drew close in concern when she failed to respond. "Miss?" He repeated again, stepping close towards her. "Are you alright?"
His abrupt movement snapped her out of her daze and she retreated a step back just to maintain the distance between them, her breaths coming out of her mouth in visible white smoke. Her might be as beautiful as a god walking amongst mortals but that didn't mean that he wasn't a stranger who had the potential to be a criminal; sometimes, it was the pretty ones you had to watch out for. She nearly shuddered at that thought. Although his sinful looks suggested otherwise, it didn't hurt to be cautious, especially since it was already dark out and it felt as though they were the only people in the world with them being the only ones out in the street.
"I'm f-fine," she tried to say convincingly but her teeth clattered as she spoke in trembling tones.
There was a hint of amusement mingling with worry in his lilac eyes. "I don't think that you are, miss. How long have you been standing here in this weather?" His gaze started to roam around her figure and she guessed that he was examining the thin fabric of her clothes — that was entirely inappropriate in a weather like this one — rather than checking her out.
She shivered involuntarily and she didn't know if it was because of the cold weather or because of the way his lilac eyes lingered on a particular part of her body before snapping his eyes up to her honey colored eyes. He seemed embarrassed when he saw that she was watching him.
She slightly narrowed her eyes. Maybe he was checking her out then.
"L-long enough," she huffed at him, pursing her lips. "I'm w-waiting for s-someone."
"In this time and weather?" He spoke with concern. "Miss, you're going to freeze here to death if you wait here any longer."
Although she understood that he was just concerned for her well-being — which was slightly odd considering that she was a stranger to him — she bristled at the implications of his statement. Did he think that she couldn't take care of herself? She wasn't some weak, pathetic girl just because she was outside in the cold, trembling so hard, wearing nothing that could ward off the heat. But, Merlin, she must've looked pathetic enough to garner concern from a complete stranger.
"I told you that I'm fine," she forced out and was internally proud of herself that she hadn't stammered this time. "Just leave me alone."
His lips tightened, obviously displeased by her words. "I'm afraid that I can't do so," he told her gently with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders as though he knew that his objection would earn him her ire. "I can't leave you in this weather and not when you're already shaking so badly. Please, let me help you."
Hermione pursed her lips as his eyes bored into her own. It was almost impossible to stop herself from getting swept by his pleading gaze. He seemed that he was genuine in his offer to help her — or at least she thought so — and it struck her that aside from being insanely good looking, he also seemed to be kind and a gentleman. She was right when she thought that Draco Malfoy couldn't compare to him. The blond prick that had tormented her since secondary school would've left her there to freeze to death. Malfoy didn't exactly have a winning personality.
She sighed. "Look, m-mister, while I appreciate y-your offer to help m-me, I can't a-accept it. Aside from t-the fact that you're a s-stranger and I'm clueless a-about your intentions towards me, I k-know that my friend is p-picking me up soon e-enough. So, really y-your help is n-not needed." She huffed and curled her numb fingers under her armpits.
"Well, you do have a point. You don't know me but I can guarantee that my intention is to help you; you need it." It seemed that he was undeterred by her attempts to refuse his offer. "Why don't you wait back inside The Three Broomsticks instead of standing out here for the Seven knows how long. It's warmer there than out here."
"No," she strongly objected with a sharp shake of her head. "No, t-thank you."
"I insist," he tried.
"No." She punctuated her response with a fierce glare.
He paused and stared at her. "You're quite stubborn, aren't you?" He eventually said, looking bemused.
Instead of looking down in embarrassment, she lifted her chin in an act of defiance. She looked as though she was ready to fight someone and tear them apart if they ever as much as made a mistake in her eyes. If she wasn't shaking so badly, she would've made a rather imposing figure.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, I a-am."
He chuckled and brushed his hair back. Her mouth dried as his hair fell back into place and framed his face. She wondered if it was as soft as she imagined it would be. He contemplated her for a moment and then he suddenly slid his jacket off his shoulders and pulled his arms out of the long sleeves. Hermione slightly jumped when he offered his jacket to her with an easy smile on his lips.
"W-what are you d-doing?" Hermione asked, her gaze to the tempting thick jacket in his grasp.
He shrugged. "I would feel much better if there's something to keep you warm while you're waiting for your friend here. Since you didn't want to adhere to my suggestion," he said this with a sigh, "I'm going to lend you my jacket. Please take this."
Hermione stared at his jacket and her jaw clenched as she weighed down her odds. As if he sensed her hesitation, without any warning, he stepped closer to her and enveloped her with his jacket. She flinched as he dropped his jacket on her shoulders and she smelled the expensive cologne on his clothes. Her stomach fluttered as her mind flitted to the thought that he smelled good. She nearly gasped aloud when, instead of pulling away, he stepped started rubbing her shoulders to give her warmth. Her head rose higher and she wondered what she looked like as he looked at her. Realizing how close they were and probably seeing her confused and shocked expression, he dropped his hands as though he had been stung and immediately distanced himself from her.
"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin on his handsome face. "I didn't mean to overstep my bounds."
Hermione cleared her throat and pulled the jacket tighter to her. She was certain that the blood rushing to her cheeks wasn't because of the cold anymore. "It's a-alright," she said slowly. "Thank you f-for the j-jacket."
His eyes softened as his lips tipped up into a half smile. "You're welcome."
"You didn't have t-to," she muttered, angling her body away from him.
"I have to," he contradicted her, chuckling lowly. "You were freezing. You have to at least protect yourself from the cold if you're planning on staying here." The corner of his eyes wrinkled in concern. "I have to go back to the bar soon. Are you sure that you'll be okay here alone when I leave?"
Hermione could hear the genuine concern in his tone of voice and some part of her softened. She nodded and flashed him a small smile the first time that night. "Yes, I'll be okay. You don't have to worry. Thank you again for the jacket."
His eyebrows twitched upwards and so did his lips; the grin on his face getting wider. "You're welcome again," he said graciously.
Hermione pursed her lips and although there was a part of her that wanted to say goodbye to him and wanted him gone already — which was terribly rude of her considering that he was kind enough to lend his jacket to her — a larger part of her wanted him to stay and hear him speak his accented voice. However, no matter how many times she pried her mouth open, no sound would escape past her throat. In the end, she snapped her mouth shut, feeling foolish.
She had never been good at talking to strangers before — to anyone really, if she cared enough to admit — and she found herself feeling intimidated by the gorgeous specimen before her. Usually, it was the other way around; people found her to be confrontational and intense so it made for rather awkward conversations. Whenever she wanted to get her opinion or point across, there was no stopping the words out of her mouth. However, encouraging pleasant small talk or any ounce of normal conversation that didn't end up in a debate was a hard thing for her to do. She didn't think that they would speak again tonight so she was prepared for him to walk away or to spend the remaining time with him in uncomfortable silence. However, he started to speak and she found herself relieved that her preparations had been for naught.
"So, are you a local, then?" He asked, evidently trying to fill the air between them with something other than silence. "Do you live in this area?"
"Oh, I d-don't really have a p-permanent residency h-here in Hogsmeade," she answered him. "I'm only s-studying here. Although I must c-confess that I was b-born here before we moved to a-another place when I was e-eleven-years-old. How a-about you? Are y-you visiting or moving here? You are f-from Westeros, aren't y-you?"
For a moment, he seemed shocked by her question, his lilac eyes widening for a small fraction and his mouth agape, but then the shock immediately passed and Hermione wondered if it was merely her imagination. There was no reason for him to be surprised by her question after all so she quickly dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the light.
"Ah, I'm actually here for business." There was a mild spark in his eyes as he answered, lilac eyes boring intently into her own and Hermione tried not feel so concious under the weight of his stare. "My work actually requires me to travel around different places and this place is one of our few stops. You're right when you said that I'm from Westeros. I was actually born in Dragonstone before my family moved to King's Landing when I was just about two."
Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "That e-explains why you can s-speak High Valyrian then." His family likely taught him to speak that language before he spoke the common tongue in King's Landing. Those who had Valyrian ancestry, from what she had read, greatly honored their blood and culture and it was unlikely that his parents didn't teach him to speak their native language.
"You heard me speaking it earlier?" He asked, an amused note lingering in his voice.
Hermione blushed and was suddenly defensive. "I wasn't eavesdropping, if that's what you're thinking. You were speaking loudly and I couldn't help but overhear it."
"I have no doubt that you weren't eavesdropping," he said immediately to placate her. "Well, both my parents have Valyrian ancestry. My father mostly though since my mother was from Dorne before. High Valyrian is my mother tongue." Furrowing his eyebrows, he regarded her with a curious light in his eyes. "How did you know that it was High Valyrian, anyway?"
"I took a c-course about l-languages," she said. "I c-could tell that i-it was High Valyr-rian because of t-the way you spoke i-it. Many people c-can mistake Bastard V-Valyrian with High Valyrian. W-what most people d-don't catch is the a-accent and the word s-structure."
"You're right," he said with a childish delight that made Hermione look at him strangely. It was peculiar how easy it seemed to make him happy. "I'm actually quite surprised. Just like that, then? Taking a course about languages?" He appraised her. "Most people that I know can't tell whether it's Bastard Valyrian or High Valyrian, much more speak it. In fact, I rarely encounter someone outside of my family and who's a Dragonstone resident that can tell the difference."
She shrugged, slightly uncertain what to react about his obvious awe. She knew that she was clever and didn't bother hiding it which caused a lot of people taunting her that she was some big know-it-all. However, seeing some random stranger appreciating her intelligence when most people she knew would and had already scorned her for it, made her feel slightly out of depth. Only a number of people could appreciate intelligence and cleverness; nobody wanted to feel inferior after all, or that was what Ron had told her one time with his ears red in part humiliation and part envy.
She cleared her throat, as if the act itself would clear her off of her insecurity. "I was always f-fascinated about different l-languages when I w-was growing up," she told him then hesitated before continuing. "I can, err, I can actually s-speak Parseltongue before my e-eighth birthday."
His eyes warmed with wonder. "Truly? You're a Parselmouth? Wow. Isn't that one of the hardest languages in the world? Who taught you?"
This time, she could not help but grin widely up at him, her heart warming at the clear admiration in his voice. There was no hint of jealousy; just fascination. It wasn't the same as Ron, who merely dismissed it as nothing and who only berated her whenever she spoke in a different language that he didn't understand. It wasn't the same as Malfoy who commented snidely that she was nothing more than an overeager show off. It wasn't the same as Mrs. Molly Weasley, Ron's and Ginny's mother, who almost always looked sour and discouraged her gently. It was strange how this stranger had made her feel lighter than the other people who knew her longer than him.
"I t-taught myself," she revealed proudly.
His lilac eyes seemed to almost swallow her whole. "Wow," he breathed out, chuckling softly. "That's amazing. Can I get an example then and a translation please, if you don't mind?"
She blushed and she was now thankful that it was cold because she could use it as an excuse. She cleared her throat and spoke, "H-hasshaashhiih... hessashi haaashuahh. The first p-part means that 'it is cold o-out,' and the s-second part means, 'I s-should've brought a jacket with me.'" Her cheeks heated even further. "And that's a-about it."
His large smile took off half of his face and he was about to open his mouth to respond when a strong chilling breeze had both of them violently shivering, completely ruining the warm mood between the two of them. Hermione watched as he rubbed his bare arms, all the while giving her an easy smile as though he was unbothered by the cold. Guilt churned in her stomach at seeing him completely vulnerable to the harsh weather and she opened her mouth with the intent to return his jacket to him when someone from behind him called out and they both turned to find a man standing in the doorway to the bar, his hand on the door. Hermione could not distinguish much of his features, aside from the fact that he was a large and heavily muscled man.
"Hey, Rhae!" The man said in his loud, booming voice, his narrowed sea blue eyes fixed at the man that Hermione was with. "Let's go! It's show time! They're already waiting for you! Come on!"
The man with her, who was called Rhae apparently, winced and nodded at him. "I'll be there. Just wait for a second." He turned to her with an apologetic glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I got to go. It was—" He paused then let out a breath and gave her a small smile. "It was an absolute pleasure talking to you. Please, keep the jacket. You need it more than I do. It'll help you keep warm."
Instead of protesting at his offer of keeping his jacket — as though it was a token that served as a reminder of this specific night — she merely nodded at him, admittedly a bit disappointed to see him go. He hesitated for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and headed towards the door to The Three Broomsticks. The man who called him was nowhere to be found; he was likely inside the bar waiting for his friend. She stared at him as the distance between them grew, her heart pounding as steady as his steps that were silent against the snow covered concrete pavement. She turned to face the empty street, wrapping the jacket tighter around herself and watching as the snowflakes continued to fall from the heavens. The jacket was still slightly warm inside although the cold was already threatening to seep through the fabric.
It would not be long before his warmth would vanish, she mused, feeling down all of the sudden.
"Excuse me, Miss."
Startled, Hermione whipped her head to the side, to the direction where she heard the voice. She found him standing exactly on the same spot he left before with a sheepish smile that did wonders to his facial features. She had never been a vain person before but this time she allowed herself to appreciate his insane beauty even for just a moment because it would be a shame not to. It was likely that they would never see each other again so she had to make the most of it.
Her breath hitched again as a nervous flutter wrecked havoc inside of her stomach. "Err," she pursed her lips, "yes?"
He ran his fingers through his hair, looking quite sheepish about something. "I just realized that I've been talking to you for quite sometime now but I never once caught your name," he uttered quietly, unable to meet her eye. Then he heaved out a deep breath, smoke curling over his mouth, and he peered into her honey colored orbs. "I was hoping to rectify that?"
"O-oh," Hermione drawled out, realizing the same thing as him. It had never occurred to her that they had not been properly introduced before and had just immediately jumped into a conversation. It made her laugh. "Oh, uhm, my n-name is Hermione."
"Hermione," he repeated slowly, as though he was tasting her name on his tongue, before he stretched his hand out to her, the curl of his smile giving light to his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Rhaegar."
She couldn't help but smile at him as she clasped his hand. She didn't let herself think about how warm his hand was, how big and slightly rough it felt when it nearly engulf her small hand, or how she felt at loss when she had finally let it go. It was best not to dwell onto those things. It didn't matter that he was hopelessly gorgeous and a perfect gentleman. In the end, this encounter would not be more than a fond memory to remember from time to time as soon as the night would end. There would be what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, but it was a memory all the same. Someday, it would fade and it would be forgotten until something would trigger the memory back again.
"I hope to see you again soon. It has been a wonderful time. Take care, Hermione." There was sincerity in his voice as he spoke and his eyes were soft.
"You t-too, Rhaegar."
It's such a shame really, she thought as she waited for Harry's car and he headed towards the direction of the bar. It was such a shame that she would never meet him again.
When Harry finally arrived after many more minutes — in Ron's ancient and beat up car no less; an old Animagus model called Wormtail that was passed to him by his twin brothers — and she situated herself on the passenger seat, she folded the black jacket on her lap, listening as Harry mumbled apologies to her. She didn't respond, mostly because she was too busy warming her hands on the heater while also trying to stop her teeth from clattering inside her mouth. She was very glad that she had worn her jeans rather than the ridiculously short skirt that Ginny insisted for her to wear. She had not realized how cold it really was until she was now experiencing heat. She was surprised that she hadn't gotten hypothermia.
"My car was at the shop and I have to borrow Ron's since they were taking Lavender's car today," he explained as he restarted the engine for the third time, grunting. "I couldn't get the speed past forty because the car would break down. I'm really sorry for being late. Have you been waiting long?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. Harry didn't need to know about the time she spent outside in the snow just waiting for him or about the gorgeous man with the strange name who lent her his jacket. He was very protective of her and she didn't want him to feel guilty. "It's okay, Harry. Let's just go back home."
He gave her a relieved smile that maybe had something to do with the fact that she hadn't berated him about punctuality. "Okay, let's go."
The car sprung to life with a pitiful wheezing noise that was another testament of how old Ron's car was. Hermione glanced at the rear view mirror, at the reflection of the doors that led inside The Three Broomsticks, until it was too far away. She could've sworn though, as the car swerved to the right, that the door opened again and she caught a glimpse of white hair.
A/N: This is what I get for reading GOT fanfics and binge watching Season 1 to 4. I need something good in my life right now. Just as I was beginning to think that I had lost my muse, she hits me with this AU story and I don't even know what to make of it. Might as well post it and burn to hell for it.
Reviews are welcomed!
~ NR xx