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Maid for Styles

Dedicated to

Dedicated to LarryShipper22 because she's always asking for updates. ;)

Harry had been different since the time we almost kissed. He was always moody and on the border, but this time it was different. We didn't even acknowledge each other in the mornings or during dinner times and if we had to talk, it was simply respectful nods and goodbyes. I didn't ignore him though in a bitter way and continued what I's always done with him, only this time conversation was nonexistent. But every now and then I would look up at him and see a tiny spark in his eye that almost seemed like guilt for how he ran off on me. But I knew there was much more to this story to find out.

I had started a collection of bed sheets to wash, when I realized I had to go to Harry's room. His room had become a place of dread, afraid that one wrong move would make him freak on me, and one good move would be a whole another story. I walked down the hallway quietly and knocked on the door, only this time louder than normal. I paused and heard a shuffle followed by a plain call for entrance.

I walked inside and refused for my eyes to meet his. I pulled the sheets off his bed and folded them into a neat pile in my arms. I glanced out of the corner of my eyes and realized he was more of a mess than usual. His hair was tousled from what I assumed was the result of the constant contact of his hands and his elbows dug into his knees, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. I reached for the door when his voice made me stop. I turned around and pressed my back against the door, wondering if I had just been hearing things.

"Why are you still nice to me?" he questioned, his abrupt outburst seeming to shake the silent room. It took a moment for his question to register in my brain, but even after I made no response, my eyes only staring off at the carpet below.

"I'm just doing what you hired me for." I said quietly and he instantly shook his head. I didn't know what to do and slowly lifted my gaze from the floor.

"No you're not Adelaide." He never used my nickname so even if his voice tried to be calm and collected it sounded more intimidating to me. He stood up and walked closer to my spot, although our definition of closer was a five foot distance.

"If you were just doing your job why would you care to make dinner just the way I told you it would be better, when I was more or less insulting you? Why have you not even uttered a complaint to me about the way I've treated you? Why are so patient when I'm just a whole bunch of crap to deal with!" he yelled the last part and threw his hands by his sides.

I was stumped. I wasn't expecting this sudden outburst of interrogation or for all those questions to even be on his mind. Instead I showed the biggest sign of weakness in front of him. I cried. Not the all out dramatic movie scenes, but more like silent flowing, red eyed tears.

He looked up and his angry, exasperated expression softened and he he seemed even more guilty then before. He got up quickly until he was unintentionally cornering me against the wall.

"Oh god Adelaide. I didn't mean to." he said his voice waverung, and I stopped crying a bit. He reached out a hand to touch my face, but I shook my head and stepped back. He seemed confused by the way his mouth slightly opened and he slowly dropped his hands.

"Because I care." I said in soft yet confident voice and walked out of his room before I could even hear his answer. I heard a faint call for my name, but I didn't turn back.


"What happened to you!?" called Laurel's worried voice as she walked up to the place on the beach I had been sitting on. She came over to me and made me face her, my tear stained face and irritated eyes making her gasp. "Did Harry hurt you?" she asked and checked my arms for any visible sign of physical contact.

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