Just The Way I'm Not (Prince Harry Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight

Harry stuck by his word. I was still in bed when I could hear a car honking outside. This morning it didn’t take me long to get up, I pounced out of bed as soon as I heard him and ran down the stairs to open the door. He was there, grinning at me. He didn’t look at all stressed by what had happened; in fact he looked on top of the world. “Nice PJs” he says, looking me up and down. I pray it’s too dark in my sleeping house to see my blush. “Packed?” Harry questions as he lets himself in. I bow my head down and shake it, last night I got too distracted by the prospect of Prince Harry of Wales driving into Craster Village. “Well come on then, chop chop” he beams at me and ushers me up the stairs. “It’s a long journey ahead, took me five hours to get here” I look at the clock in my bedroom; it’s only nine in the morning. “You’ve been travelling since four?!” I exclaim, feeling really embarrassed he did that for me. “Well” he shrugs “you sounded pretty desperate on the phone.” I smile at him now, a real genuine smile and this seems to mean more that words. He understands, looking at me for a moment before picking up my suitcase. “This will work.” I stare at it; it’s massive, meant for a long stay. “How long am I going to be staying with you exactly?” I ask.

“Not sure” he responds “We’re going to sort out this media thing, then I guess you should stay with me until it all dies down.”

“Why?” I couldn’t seem to gather Harry’s reasoning for why staying with him will keep me away from the press anymore than it will here. Surely it would just give them an excuse to make up more stories.

“Because Longford, the people who work for my family are there to deal with this kind of thing. They know what they’re doing, not just the people in PR but bodyguards as well.” He rolls his eyes “Has it never occurred to you that you could get hurt when there are people around who are tripping over each other to talk to you?” I have to admit to him it hasn’t, I’ve never thought of it that way before. Harry just shrugs again and says “I don’t blame you. You’ve never had any experience of this kind of thing.”

“Is that why you’re protecting me?” I question.

“Yes HL, it’s my fault this happened to you, so I’m sorting it out.” He doesn’t say anything after that, he opens my suitcase and while I root around in my drawers for clothes, he wonders around my room picking things up that he thinks I might need. My suitcase is full by the end of the packing, and I find myself sitting on it whilst Harry attempts to zip it up. I’ve got enough stuff to last me for ages and ages away, and, even though I want to go, I find myself nervous leaving home to go to a strangers house. But Harry’s constant glances and smiles put me at ease. I tell him a tiny lie about my parents knowing I’m leaving and then we make our way downstairs. Okay, so I didn’t tell them, but I’ll phone them is evening and they‘ll be fine with it. It’s not like they ever paid attention to me before now, why would they care? When we leave the house I spot a couple of photographers taking pictures of me and Harry getting into the car, but apart from that I’m away from them for now.

He wasn’t lying about the journey, it does take forever. I sit happily in the back of the spacious BMW though, putting my feet up and watching one of the TV’s. Harry sleeps for most of the journey, stirring a couple of times when we drive over bumps. When lunch time comes around, I help myself to a coke and sandwich from the cooler and find myself watching Harry sleep. He looks peaceful and cute with his eyes closed, like he’s away in some other land. He’s a pale person, but looking very closely at his face, I make out some faint freckles and rosy cheeks. This is the first time I notice that I might actually fancy him. The thought scares me a little, because I don’t want to feel this way. So I spend the rest of the journey looking out the window, waiting to get to London. It’s about 4:00pm when we arrive and it’s quite a commotion getting into the palace. Tourists and photographers are all gathered outside, like they always are in London and get excited when they see a car driving into the opening gates. People banging on the car is what wakes Harry up, looking fresh and rested he grins at me, and sits back while we wait for the guards to help us in. The windows are blacked out so the people can’t see me, but I can see them. It really makes me wonder whether London will help me after all.