A/N: Written for Quidditch League Competition, Round 3. Position: Seeker, Destroyed Artefact: Sword, Word Count: 1300, Harry/Parvati, Historical Romance, AU.

The Clandestine Affair

Stars twinkle white,

In the inky blue night,

She smiles down at me,

Dressed in gold and white,

Looking like the angel of night.

In vain I try to describe her beauty,

Words fail me as I think of:

Her innocence,

Her tinkling laugh...

She says she loves me,

She believes I love her,

And as true as that might be,

I am here on a duty.

"I love you," she whispers,

I know she means it,

I want to say it back

But I know this is the time to quit.

Years have passed since that night, the night which was lit by twinkling stars, that moon-less night, the night she said I love you to me, and I couldn't say it back. And the fateful night I betrayed her. And even though it has been five decades, since my youthful days, I still remember her smiling face and mischievous, yet innocent brown eyes the same way I remember that fateful night.

((o))

I was twenty one back then, fresh in the militia and my first posting was in Plassey, to defend the East India Company. Working in India was considered lucky as the Company provided even the militia with luxury. East India Company had established it's hold in Bengal. I didn't knew much but there were always gossips in the militia in free time.

Most of the militia comprised of us Europeans and only a few Indian soldiers (at low rankings) but in Plassey there East were no Indian soldiers.

There were whispers around the militia that there was going to be a war with the Nawab, because, apparently Nawab refused some rights provided to the East India Company in other areas. But most of the militia preferred to joke and relax, believing that there won't be war as East India Company means business and all the look for is profits.

Some had said that the new Nawab, about the same age as me, was not as level-headed as the previous one but was known for his temper and feeble mind.

It was under these circumstances I met her.

She was beautiful, adorned with gold jewellery and sweet smelling flowers.

In reality, I wasn't supposed to meet her, she wasn't even supposed to step out of her palace.

Yes, she was the young Nawab's younger sister.

But she had a mischievous streak. She had later told me that she was pretty much ignored all her life by her parents even though he was showered with luxuries. Her grandfather had announced since the birth of his brother that he was going to be his successor.

And she was needed only to be married to someone profitable.

But she had made friends with her maids and servers, and learned many things and one of them was to sneak out of the castle.

She had surprised me with her knowledge in English.

She had explained it by saying that a good wife must be well-accomplished and her grandfather believed in a girl being well-educated.

She stood out in the Khandaan-e-Nawaab* as only her name was Hindu, she was named after Goddess Parvati, and after her maternal grandmother.

It was not uncommon for a Hindu princess to be married to a Mughal Badshah* or Nizams for the sake of peace in the Empire.

And the women had no say.

It was during one of her excursions from the palace, that I met her by the river.

She was, I learned by my scanty knowledge of Bengali, placating her maid who thought it might be dangerous to skip around the palace in these conditions and then the maid had eyed me with in-deference and mild fear.

She pronounced her name as "Porvatti" in Bengali accent.

"You speak English?" I had said looking shocked and she had laughed at my face.

Her maid had informed her this behaviour was not acceptable but she ignored the maid and we struck a rapport.

Our acquaintance grew to the point she sneaked out of the castle to meet me and we would talk for hours.

It was one fateful evening when she appeared without her maid.

We were talking, she was intelligent and believed her brother was making a mistake. But as she said, women didn't have a say.

"I like your eyes, Harry," she had said, in an amused voice, "Green eyes are so rare,"

I had nodded, as I did not know what to say or do, "And you are sort of beautiful." She added, in a thoughtful tone, touching my cheek.

I had looked at her in surprise, stunned to the spot, "Huh?" Was the only thing I could manage, and she continued, "And your lips, they are pink," She had said, in the same thoughtful tone, "Mine are brown,"

I looked at her lips, they were lined by same red liquid, I couldn't remember the name she had given to it. Her lips were plump and full and I had the sudden urge to kiss her.

"just like my skin, but you are pink, white, with tinges of pink."

She started to trace her thumb over my lips as she studied the contrast between our skins, "Your lips feel so different than mine," she had said, "I wonder..." she trailed off and then she had kissed me.

That moment, I realized I was in love with this girl.

Our meetings had not been missed by the militia or the major, who promptly asked me to report everything that happened in our clandestine meetings. Everything.

I didn't want to.

But the major knew my weak point. My sister, Hermione.

She was everything to me, even though she was not my real sister.

The two of us had been orphaned by the same calamity and became friends out of necessity of someone to love and care.

Although, she had been married to Ronald by then, her well being was my first priority. Maybe because she was the only person I had cared for so long.

The Major's elder brother was Ronald's employer and he made it clear that if I did not co-operate him, Ronald might lose his job.

I have always wondered whether my choice was selfish, but I hadn't seen Hermione so happy in her life in a long time. I chose Hermione.

Major wanted me to bring the Nawab's sword, I had found the idea ridiculous, but major knew that Nawab was feeble minded and superstitious. It was believed by the family that war fought with that sword proved to be always victorious, and the wars in which the sword wasn't used were a lost cause. They believed it was the iron used. They called it the "keemti loha" which was blessed by the dargah of Ajmer.

My conscience was not allowing me to steal something but in the end, I had made a choice, protect Hermione's happiness.

Parvati and I continued to meet.

Our clandestine affair bloomed, she never once doubted me.

She took me to the palace, albeit secretly, tucked in her royal carriage. No one was allowed to look at her, or peek in her carriage. The streets would be cleared when her carriage was to pass by.

She wanted to show me her love. But I betrayed her, escaping her room in the middle of the night, I stole the sword from the treasure room, where she had told me it would be.

The Nawabs lost the battle, even with the help of French. The Major had destroyed the jewel encrusted sword in front of the Nawab.

No one knew in the end that I stole the sword, that I was behind it's destruction, which destroyed the Nawab's confidence along with it. But I could see it in her eyes, the next time I saw her, next to his fallen brother.

Khandaan-e-Nawaab- Family of Nawaabs,

Keemti Loha- Valuable Iron.