Chapter 68: Third Day of Winter Break
– Harry Sitri –
I smiled from my spot against the hallway wall, arms folded loosely over my chest, listening to Hermione talk to her parents on the phone.
"Yes, Mum, I'm eating properly," she said, rolling her eyes even though they couldn't see her. "No, Harry is not letting me live on toast and tea. I don't eat like that anymore! Yes, there are actual vegetables in the Underworld. No, they're not all cursed. Wait? Why does that make you disappointed…?"
I pressed my fist against my mouth to keep from laughing.
Hermione shot me a warning look over her shoulder, which only made it worse.
She was standing by one of the long windows in the Sitri manor's western corridor, phone pressed to her ear, her messy brown curls falling messily over one shoulder. She wore a soft cream jumper and tight blue jeans that hugged her hips and arse in a way that made focusing on anything else an act of heroic self-control.
Not that I was feeling especially heroic.
The underworld's purple light spilled through the window behind her. She looked relaxed. Happy. More at ease than I could remember seeing her during the chaos of Hogwarts.
That, more than anything, made me glad we had changed the holiday plans.
Originally, I had thought we would spend most of winter break in the Underworld. It made sense on paper. The Sitri manor was safe, enormous, and practically built to house complicated noble disasters masquerading as family gatherings. My grandparents were here. My mother was here whenever Maou work did not drag her away by the ankles. Sona, Rias, and the others had easier access to their own worlds from here.
But the more I thought about it, the more unfair it felt.
Hermione still had parents who loved her and missed her. Ginny had a family grieving Arthur and trying to rebuild around the hole he left behind. Fleur and Gabrielle had their mother in France, and even if Jean Delacour was currently being an arse about devils, their family situation still mattered. Tonks had Andromeda and Ted, complicated as that had become. Narcissa had Andromeda too, in a way neither of them had fully figured out yet.
My life had been swallowed whole by devils, Satans, Valkyries, dragons, legendary swords, cursed bloodlines, peerages, and enough romantic complications to make Lilja start keeping lists.
That did not mean everyone else's world had to disappear into mine.
So, in a few days, we were going to France for a week.
A proper visit.
At least, that was the plan for now. Plans and I had a somewhat hostile relationship.
"Yes, I'll call before we leave," Hermione said, smiling now. "I promise. Tell Dad I love him too. Yes, I heard him. No, I'm not repeating that to Harry..."
My eyebrows rose.
Hermione's cheeks went pink.
That was interesting.
"Because he'll get ideas," she said firmly into the phone, then made an offended noise. "Mum!"
I grinned.
She turned away from me entirely, but that only gave me a better view of her arse, which was absolutely not the defensive maneuver she probably intended.
A few seconds later, she sighed, softened, and said, "I love you too. I'll see you soon."
She hung up and stood there for a moment with the phone clasped in both hands against her chest, smiling down at it like it had somehow become precious just because her parents' voices had come through it.
The expression hit me somewhere tender.
She turned back to me, still glowing with it. "Thanks for waiting."
"No problem," I said. "I was enjoying the view."
Hermione blinked. "The view?"
I let my gaze drift very deliberately downward.
Her eyes widened.
"You were talking to your parents," I said. "I was admiring how cute your bum looks in those jeans. We both used the time productively."
Her face went bright red. "Harry!"
"What?"
"I was having a heartfelt conversation with my mother!"
"And I was having a heartfelt appreciation for denim."
She made a strangled sound, somewhere between outrage and laughter, then covered her face with one hand. "Why did the man I love have to turn out to be a shameless pervert?"
I pushed off the wall and crossed the hallway toward her. "Bad luck?"
"Terrible luck," she muttered, though she was smiling behind her hand.
"Could be worse."
She lowered her hand enough to glare at me suspiciously. "How?"
"You could love a boring man."
Her glare faltered.
I closed the last step between us, slid my hands down to her hips, and squeezed. "And we both know you'd hate that."
"I would not," she said primly.
"You absolutely would."
"I happen to value stability, maturity, and intellectual discipline."
"You also own three smutty romance novels you pretend are examples of narrative structure."
Her mouth fell open. "You went through my books?"
"No. You left one open on the bed with a page marked where the pirate captain had the governess bent over a navigation table."
Hermione made a tiny noise and looked away.
I leaned closer. "For academic reasons, obviously." Then I bent, gripped her properly by the arse, and lifted her clean off the floor.
Hermione squeaked, high and startled, her hands flying to my shoulders as her legs wrapped around my waist on instinct. "Harry!"
"What?" I asked again, much less innocently.
Her blush deepened, but the sharp little protest in her eyes melted almost immediately. Her thighs tightened around me, and her fingers slid into my hair. "You are going to make us late," she whispered.
I walked her backward until her spine met the wall.
"Probably."
Her breath hitched.
Then she leaned down and kissed me.
It was not gentle. Hermione had soft moments, sweet moments, moments where she kissed like she was asking a question and already knew the answer. This was not one of those.
Her mouth opened against mine with a low moan. I pressed her more firmly against the wall, one hand still under her, the other braced near her waist. Her jumper rode up slightly beneath my fingers, and warm skin met my palm.
She tasted faintly of tea and peppermint, and I chased the taste greedily.
Hermione's hands tightened in my hair. Her hips shifted against me, and the sound she made into my mouth went straight through my spine.
I forgot, for a very pleasant second, that we had places to be.
I broke the kiss with effort.
Hermione followed my mouth for half an inch before catching herself. Her eyes opened slowly, dazed and dark, her lips flushed from mine.
I rested my forehead against hers and breathed out a laugh. "We're going to be late."
She blinked. "What?"
"We're supposed to be teleporting to Gremory Manor soon."
Her expression shifted, immediate Hermione Granger panic. "Oh, Merlin!" She tried to scramble down, which would have been more effective if her legs had not still been locked around my waist. "Harry, put me down!"
"I'm trying, but you're clinging."
"I am not clinging."
"You are wrapped around me like a very bossy scarf."
Her mouth snapped shut. Then she realized I was still holding her by the arse and went red all over again. "Down," she demanded.
I lowered her carefully, letting her slide down my body just enough to make her breath catch again before her shoes touched the floor.
She swatted my chest. "Menace."
I smiled.
Hermione groaned, turned away, and began smoothing down her jumper with far more dignity than the situation deserved. Her hair was mussed from my fingers, her lips still looked thoroughly kissed, and the pink in her cheeks had not faded at all.
"You realize," she said, trying very hard to sound composed, "that Rias's family is one of the most politically significant noble families in the Underworld. And this is your first proper visit to Gremory Manor as part of your formal holiday schedule. And we cannot arrive late because you decided to assault me in a hallway."
I raised a finger. "You kissed me first."
"After you picked me up by my bum!"
"Details…"
"Important details!"
I stepped closer, caught her hand before she could poke me again, and kissed her knuckles. "You look beautiful."
She froze.
The lecture died in her throat. Hermione stared at me for half a second longer than was strictly necessary, her mouth still parted around whatever lecture she had been about to deliver.
Then she swallowed. "That is cheating," she said quietly.
"Complimenting my Bishop is cheating?"
"Complimenting me in that voice when I'm trying to be cross with you is cheating."
"I'll add it to my list of crimes."
"You have a very long list."
"I know. Lilja color-coded it."
That got the laugh out of her. She tried to smother it behind her hand, failed, and ended up pouting at me instead. It was not a very convincing pout. Hermione Granger could stare down teachers, monsters, corrupt Ministry officials, and magical theory that would make grown wizards weep, but when she pouted, all it did was make me want to kiss her again.
Which was, unfortunately, how we had gotten into this problem in the first place.
"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand with sudden decisiveness.
I let her pull me down the corridor.
That was one of the things I loved about Hermione. She could be soft and flustered one moment, then turn into an unstoppable force of scheduling and responsibility the next. It was the same energy that made her organize textbooks by subject, author, edition, and threat level. Now it was aimed at dragging me to the teleportation room before I made us late to visit one of the most powerful noble families in the Underworld.
My Bishop was terrifying when properly motivated.
She practically hauled me around a corner, curls bouncing behind her. "We are not making Rias wait."
"Rias would forgive us."
"Rias would, yes. Her family would smile politely while adding it to whatever mental ledger nobles use when judging future sons-in-law."
"I thought devils respected passion."
"They also respect punctuality."
"That sounds fake…"
"That sounds like something a man says when he got distracted by denim."
I looked down at our joined hands, then back up at her. "In my defense, it was very good denim."
Hermione shot me a look over her shoulder. "You are incorrigible."
"And yet loved."
"Unfortunately." She said it too quickly, but the warmth in her fingers as she squeezed mine ruined the insult.
The Sitri manor's teleportation room was ahead, through a pair of tall blue-white doors etched with flowing water designs and delicate silver runes. I had become disturbingly used to rooms like this. When I was eighteen, teleportation had been something out of science fiction even if I could control water. When I was nineteen, walking through manor corridors to step into glowing demonic circles had become part of my schedule.
My life had stopped making sense so long ago that I had begun treating impossible things as errands.
Hermione opened the doors and pulled me inside. Hermione stepped onto the center circle and immediately began checking the coordinates on the control pillar.
I watched her work.
That was another thing I loved. Hermione did not just accept magic. She investigated it, dismantled it in her head, sorted it, questioned it, argued with it, and then usually improved it out of sheer irritation. "Gremory territory," she murmured. "Primary receiving room. Family manor. Permission seal active. Time window open." She glanced at me. "Ready?"
I held up our joined hands. "You're still dragging me, so I assume I don't get a vote."
"You lost voting privileges in the hallway."
"Fair."
Then the circle beneath us flared crimson.
Sitri blue met Gremory red, the two colors twisting together in a flash of light that filled my vision. Magic folded around us. There was a brief sensation of being pulled through cold water and warm velvet at the same time, then the floor vanished from beneath us and reappeared somewhere else entirely.
A few minutes after Hermione had been pouting at me in Sitri Manor, we appeared in another room across the Underworld.
The receiving chamber in Gremory Manor was nothing like ours.
Where the Sitri teleportation room felt elegant, cool, and precise, the Gremory version felt warm and grand. The floor was dark red marble shot through with gold veins. Tall columns rose to an arched ceiling painted with old family scenes: crimson-haired devils in battle, feasts beneath impossible skies, ancient alliances sealed under demonic banners.
This was where Rias had grown up.
A soft click of heels drew my attention.
A woman stood waiting near the edge of the circle.
Even prepared, I still nearly stared.
Grayfia Lucifuge was exactly as ridiculous as I remembered from the few times I had seen her at a distance. Silver hair fell in perfect, elegant lines around a face that looked carved out of frost and noble restraint. Her maid uniform was immaculate, black and white and formal, though no amount of tailoring could pretend she was not absurdly built beneath it. Her breasts strained the front of the uniform in a way that made the word "modest" file a formal complaint and flee the room.
This was Sirzechs Lucifer's Queen. One of the most powerful women in the Underworld.
A legendary devil.
A terrifying maid.
I had known enough devil maids by now to understand that those things were not contradictory.
Grayfia dipped into a perfect curtsy, graceful enough that even Hermione's fingers tightened around mine in startled appreciation.
"Welcome to the Gremory clan's home, Harry-sama, Hermione-sama."
Hermione immediately flushed. "Oh! Please, you don't need to call me that."
Grayfia rose smoothly. Her expression did not change, but somehow the air acquired the faintest hint of unmovable certainty. "I am afraid I must, Hermione-sama. You are a member of Lord Harry's peerage, his first Bishop, and an honored guest of the Gremory family. It is my duty as head maid of the Gremory household to show proper respect."
Hermione opened her mouth.
I poked her lightly in the side.
She twitched. "Harry."
"Don't bother," I said. "Changing her mind would be impossible."
Grayfia's eyes shifted to me.
I smiled. "I live with Lyra and Lyna. I recognize the signs of a maid that never breaks character…"
Hermione gave me a warning look, but her blush had deepened, which rather undermined it.
I had learned something important about devil maids since entering the Underworld: they really got into their roles. The service. The hierarchy. The absolute commitment to acting like preparing tea, opening doors, managing households, and kneeling at the right moment were sacred arts.
With Lyra and Lyna, that devotion came with a level of shameless sexuality that still occasionally made my brain forget how language worked.
I loved my slutty twin maids.
Very much.
And looking at Grayfia standing there with that perfect posture, that flawless uniform, that serene face, and enough power beneath her skin to flatten most of the people I knew, I had a strong suspicion Sirzechs loved his own beautiful, terrifying, powerful maid Queen behind closed doors just as much.
Honestly, good for him. I respected a man who understood his blessings.
Hermione must have read something on my face because she narrowed her eyes. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
"That is never true."
Grayfia, to her credit, pretended not to hear any of that. Either she was the greatest professional in the Underworld, or she was used to far worse from Sirzechs and the Gremory family.
Probably both.
"If you would follow me," Grayfia said, turning with a quiet swish of her skirt, "your fiancée is waiting nearby in her bedroom. Lady Rias and her Queen have been expecting you."
"Akeno is here too?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, Hermione-sama."
Hermione's expression did something complicated.
I sympathized.
Akeno Himejima was beautiful, dangerous, shameless, and seemed to consider personal space more of a negotiation than a boundary. Rias loved her. I liked her. Hermione respected her intelligence and distrusted her hands.
All of those opinions were reasonable.
Grayfia led us out of the receiving chamber into a corridor that looked more like part of a palace than a manor. The walls were deep cream stone with red-and-gold trim, lined by portraits of severe-looking devils whose eyes tracked us as we passed. Warm light floated in glass globes along the ceiling. Thick carpets swallowed our footsteps. Somewhere distant, I heard the faint sound of a piano.
Hermione's scholarly attention focused on all the sights immediately. "This architecture is older than Sitri Manor's western wing," she whispered.
"Is it?"
"The load-bearing enchantments are different. Less geometric. I think."
I glanced at the wall.
The wall, being a wall, did not explain itself.
"I'll take your word for it."
"You should pay attention," she said. "This is part of your future family's ancestral home."
"I am paying attention."
"To Grayfia's arse?"
I coughed.
Grayfia's steps did not falter.
Hermione's eyes gleamed.
I leaned down and muttered, "That was entrapment."
Hermione made a soft, smug sound.
Grayfia stopped before a set of double doors. She turned back to us, face still composed, but I could have sworn there was the smallest hint of amusement in her pretty silver eyes.
Grayfia reached for the handles and pushed both doors open with smooth, practiced grace.
"Lady Rias," she announced, "Harry-sama and Hermione-sama have arrived."
The room beyond was luxurious in the way only old devil nobility seemed to manage.
And then there were the anime figures.
So many anime figures.
Shelves lined an entire wall, filled with carefully arranged statues of girls in armor, girls in swimsuits, girls with swords bigger than their bodies, girls in magical uniforms, girls in outfits that probably violated several tailoring laws, and at least one tiny dragon wearing a maid headband. Posters covered the spaces between bookcases and display cabinets, some framed, some pinned, all lovingly maintained.
It was Rias's room, unmistakably.
Beside me, Hermione actually gaped. Her mouth opened. Her eyes moved from one shelf to another, then to a poster of a silver-haired swordswoman in a torn battle dress, then to a glass case containing what looked like an entire limited-edition magical girl transformation set.
I chuckled.
Hermione heard me and snapped her mouth shut.
In the middle of the room, a chess set sat on a polished table between two cushioned chairs. The pieces were made of red and black crystal, each carved into tiny devils, dragons, knights, and rooks with enough detail that I could see individual feathers on the queens' wings.
Rias and Akeno were facing off across the board.
Both paused the moment the doors opened.
Rias stood so quickly her chair nearly tipped backward.
She was wearing a short black dress.
That was the first thing my mind managed to process, and it did so with the grace and dignity of a man being hit in the face with a brick. The dress clung to her body like it had been designed by someone with a deep and personal grudge against my self-control. It left her creamy thighs bare, hugged her waist, and showed off the heavy curve of her breasts in a way that made every breath she took feel like an event.
Rias Gremory had always been beautiful. In that dress, she looked sinful.
Akeno, because the universe apparently wanted me dead, was no less dangerous.
She sat with one elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand, wearing a short pink skirt and a fitted white top whose buttons looked like they were seconds away from surrender. Her chest was even larger than Rias's, and the fabric knew it. So did she. Akeno's violet eyes flicked down my body and back up again with slow, amused appreciation.
I suddenly understood why Hermione's hand tightened around mine.
"Harry!" Rias exclaimed.
Then she ran.
I had exactly enough time to brace before my fiancée launched herself at me.
Even with Ultimate Class strength and devil reflexes, I had not expected the full weight of an enthusiastic Gremory heiress in a very short black dress to hit me directly in the chest. I let out a grunt as she knocked me backward. My heel caught on nothing at all, because apparently dignity had abandoned me, and I went down hard onto the carpet.
Rias landed on top of me with both hands planted on my chest, her crimson hair falling around us. "I missed you," she said, smiling down at me with such open happiness that I forgot to complain about being tackled.
I smiled up at her. "School only got out three days ago."
"Three days is a long time."
"It really isn't."
"It is when I'm missing you."
That was unfair. Sweet, warm, beautiful, and unfair.
Akeno's heels clicked against the floor as she came strutting over, hips swaying in a way that no one could possibly mistake for accidental. She knew exactly what she looked like. She knew exactly what every step did to her skirt, her thighs, and the struggling buttons on her top.
She stopped beside us and smiled down at me. "I must agree with Rias," she said, voice low and amused. "Three days was far too long." Then her eyes slid to Hermione. "Ara, Granger-san. It is always a pleasure to see you."
Hermione let out a long, controlled breath through her nose. "It is lovely to see you as well, Akeno." Her tone was polite.
I could not blame her. Hermione had become far less rule-abiding since becoming a devil.
But Akeno was still Akeno.
Hermione, for all her growth, still preferred at least some rules to exist before someone started breaking them.
Grayfia cleared her throat. "Lady Rias," Grayfia said, "riding your fiancé on the floor is not proper decorum for a noble heiress of House Gremory."
Rias pouted down at me. She did not move. "But Grayfia, we're devils," she said. "This is downright tame compared to what I've seen other women getting up to with MY fiancé."
The emphasis on 'my' was not subtle.
Hermione's eyebrow twitched.
Akeno covered a smile with the back of her hand.
Rias grumbled, "You should see the things Serafall does to him..."
Grayfia closed her eyes for half a second and sighed. "Lady Serafall is not a woman to emulate in matters of restraint." Then her gaze shifted toward me. "No offense intended, Harry-sama."
I chuckled from beneath Rias. "None taken. I understand completely."
Grayfia inclined her head.
I looked up at my fiancée, whose thighs were bracketing my hips and whose dress had ridden up enough that thinking clearly required effort. "But I absolutely love my mother regardless."
Rias's expression softened. For all her pouting, all her possessiveness, all the scandalous Gremory warmth she wore so easily, there was something deeply sincere in her eyes when she looked at me then. "And that is why I'm glad you're my fiancé, Harry," she said. "Family is most important to Gremorys."
I swallowed. That sentence hit harder than I expected.
Rias finally pushed herself up, but she did it slowly, her eyes glinting with sudden mischief. Her body shifted against mine as she rose. She felt exactly what the pressure of her arse against my lap had done to me before she stood.
Her smirk told me so. Little devil.
Rias stepped away with every appearance of innocence, smoothing down the hem of her black dress while failing entirely to look sorry.
Hermione offered me a hand.
I took it, and she pulled me up with more strength than a human her size should have had. Reincarnated devil strength still caught me off guard sometimes, especially when Hermione used it while pretending she was merely being helpful.
"Subtle," she murmured.
I leaned close. "She tackled me."
"You enjoyed it."
"I never said I didn't."
Hermione sighed, but she did not let go of my hand.
Grayfia, having decided we were all marginally upright and therefore salvageable, folded her hands neatly in front of her. "You have several hours before dinner this evening," she said. "Lord and Lady Gremory will receive you formally then. Until that time, you are free to spend your afternoon as you please." She paused. "Within limits, of course."
For some reason, she looked directly at Akeno when she said that.
Akeno placed one hand over her chest, which was either an attempt to look innocent or a calculated attack on the integrity of her buttons.
"Grayfia-san," she said, wounded, "why are you looking at me?"
"Experience," Grayfia replied.
Akeno's smile widened.
Rias huffed. "Akeno, please do not make Grayfia prepare incident wards before dinner."
"I make no promises."
Hermione muttered, "Of course you don't."
Grayfia turned to leave.
Akeno licked her lips. "Well," she said, her voice dropping into that dangerous, playful purr she used when she knew she was about to cause trouble, "now that the fun police have gone, what kind of naughty things should we get up to?"
Hermione stiffened beside me.
Akeno placed one finger against her chin and tilted her head as though giving the matter serious academic consideration. "There is so much to do, and so little time before dinner."
Rias sighed, but it was a fond sigh. The sort of sigh a woman made when her Queen had been like this for years and would not be stopping any time soon.
Hermione, meanwhile, was practically vibrating beside me.
Not with the kind of energy Akeno was hoping for.
I knew that look. I knew what she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.
"Actually," Hermione said, trying and failing to sound casual, "would it be all right if I visited the manor library?"
Akeno froze.
Rias giggled.
I pinched the bridge of my nose to hide my smile.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, but she pressed on. "I've been really curious how it compares to the Sitri library. Gremory family magic has different foundations, and I noticed the architectural enchantments in the corridor, and if the library has older household records or family spellcraft texts—"
Rias laughed softly. "I kind of expected you to say something like that."
Hermione's blush deepened.
Akeno looked personally betrayed. "Books?" she asked, as though Hermione had suggested spending the afternoon sorting laundry by thread count. "Granger-san, we are on winter break. In Rias's bedroom. With Harry-kun." Her eyes slid to me. "And you want to look at books?"
Hermione lifted her chin. "Books are fun!"
Akeno stared at her flatly.
I could almost see two very different worldviews crashing violently into each other.
"Books," Akeno said slowly, "are only fun if they have lots of steamy sex scenes."
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed. Her eyes flicked toward me.
I raised both hands. "I am staying out of this."
"Coward," Hermione muttered.
Akeno smiled. "I could recommend some very educational illustrated works from Rias's shelves."
Rias made a strangled sound. "Akeno!"
"What? They are educational."
"They are collector's editions!"
"That does not make them less educational."
Hermione's eyes betrayed her for half a second by flicking toward the shelves.
I saw it.
Rias saw it.
Akeno definitely saw it.
Hermione realized we saw it and turned red. "I meant PROPER books," she said.
"Of course," Akeno said, sounding anything but convinced.
Rias cleared her throat before the conversation could spiral into whatever disaster Akeno was cheerfully constructing. "Akeno, could you show Hermione the library?"
Akeno turned slowly. Her expression was devastating. Betrayal. Wounded loyalty. Dramatic heartbreak. If there had been a fainting couch nearby, I was certain she would have collapsed onto it. "Rias," she said, placing a hand over her chest. "You would send me away?"
"Yes."
"So cruel."
"You will survive."
Akeno glanced at me with open longing. The kind of look that made Hermione make a small, annoyed sound under her breath. Akeno sighed as though sacrificing herself for the greater good. "You owe me, Rias." Akeno's smile returned, slow and wicked. "I will collect later."
Rias's cheeks pinked, but she did not back down. "Library. Hermione. Now."
Akeno turned to Hermione and swept one arm toward the door. "Come along, Granger-san. Let us go look at dusty old tomes while Harry-kun and Rias do absolutely nothing improper in her childhood bedroom."
Hermione gave me a look. It was very much the look of a woman who knew exactly what was about to happen, was not entirely happy about missing it, and was still being pulled toward the library by forces older and stronger than lust.
Academic curiosity. Possibly the most terrifying force in creation.
"Behave," she told me.
I smiled. "I always do."
"No, you don't."
"I behave according to my nature."
"That is worse."
Akeno laughed and hooked her arm through Hermione's before Hermione could say anything else. "Do not worry. I will make sure the library has all the books she can handle."
Hermione's eyes sharpened despite herself. "How large is it?"
Akeno's smile widened.
And just like that, Hermione was lost.
They left together, Akeno swaying her hips deliberately while Hermione tried very hard not to look like she was hurrying.
The doors closed behind them.
That left me alone in Rias Gremory's bedroom. With Rias Gremory. Who was looking at me with a smile that had absolutely nothing to do with chess, libraries, or noble decorum.
"Well," I said.
Rias stepped closer, grabbed my hand, and started pulling me toward the bed.
Her bed was enormous, because of course it was. A four-poster with dark wood, crimson sheets, black silk pillows, and a canopy embroidered with tiny gold Gremory crests. It looked softer than some entire hotels I had stayed in. It also looked like the sort of bed that had probably been enchanted for privacy, comfort, durability, and possibly scandal.
Rias dragged me all the way to it, then flopped backward with a dramatic sigh, crimson hair spilling over the bedding.
"It's nice being home," she grumbled, staring up at the canopy. "But I forgot how stuffy it can be."
I sat on the edge of the mattress. It sank beneath me like a cloud that had inherited wealth. "Stuffy?"
Rias turned her head to look at me. "Grayfia. Mother. Father. The servants. The family expectations. The way everyone watches what I do because I'm the Gremory heiress." She lifted one hand and let it fall back onto the blankets. "At Hogwarts, I have more freedom. Even with everything that happens there."
"Everything that happens there includes basilisks, Fallen Angels, Dementors, Voldemort, and tournament death traps."
"Yes," Rias said, completely serious. "But at least no one there tells me not to sit on my fiancé."
I laughed.
She pouted.
I flopped down beside her, turning onto my side so I could face her. "It can't be that bad. Your bed is bigger and softer than the Hogwarts beds, if nothing else."
Rias gave me an unimpressed look. "Harry, you have your own private room at Hogwarts. And maids."
"I feel like that part is unrelated."
"It is very related." Rias turned onto her side too, facing me, the hem of her black dress riding higher over her thighs as she moved. "Anyways, I went out of my way to get all dressed up. Do you really like it?"
"The dress?"
She nodded, suddenly less teasing and more honestly curious.
My gaze traveled over her before I could stop it. Her bare thighs against the crimson bedding. The curve of her waist. The heavy swell of her breasts beneath the black fabric. The crimson hair framing her face. The faint uncertainty in her blue-green eyes, as if she still wanted my answer even when she already knew she looked stunning.
I leaned closer. "Rias, I almost forgot my own name when I saw you."
Her lips parted. Then her smile softened into something warm and pleased. "Good," she whispered.
I laughed under my breath and leaned in.
She expected me to kiss her mouth. I did not. I brushed my lips against the side of her neck instead.
Rias inhaled quickly.
Her skin was warm and smooth beneath my mouth, carrying the faint scent of expensive soap, crimson roses, and something uniquely her. I kissed once just below her ear, then again lower, slow enough to feel the tiny shiver that ran through her body.
"Harry," she breathed.
I smiled against her skin.
Then I opened my mouth and suckled gently at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
Rias's hand flew to my arm. Her fingers tightened.
I sucked a little harder, letting my teeth graze her skin without biting properly, and her legs shifted against the bedding. The movement was small at first, a restless slide of her thighs, then more obvious as she rubbed them together with a soft, needy sound.
That sound did dangerous things to my self-control.
Her body arched slightly toward me. "Harry," she moaned, quieter this time, more breath than word.
I dragged my lips up along her neck, then back down, taking my time. Rias Gremory, heiress of one of the great devil houses, beautiful and powerful and beloved, trembled under my mouth like every little kiss mattered.
It made something possessive curl hot in my chest.
Her hand slid into my hair. "Do you know," she whispered, voice already unsteady, "how unfair it is that you can make me feel like this so quickly?"
I kissed the pulse fluttering beneath her jaw. "Three days is a long time, apparently."
She let out a breathless laugh that turned into another moan when I sucked another mark into her neck. "If you leave a hickey before dinner, Grayfia will notice. She will tell Mother..."
I did not want to stop.
That was the honest truth.
Not with Rias beneath me on crimson sheets, not with her legs shifting restlessly every time my mouth found another sensitive spot on her neck, not with those needy little moans slipping out of her as though she hated how much she liked it.
My hand had settled against her waist, fingers curved over the warmth of her through the thin black fabric of her dress. Every breath she took pressed her body a little closer to mine. Every sound she made dragged my self-control further into the gutter.
And Rias knew it.
She was watching me through half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looked like every bad decision I had ever wanted to make gathered into one beautiful devil heiress.
With great, heroic effort, I managed to pull my lips away from her neck.
Rias made a soft, disappointed sound that nearly destroyed all of that effort immediately.
I closed my eyes for half a second. "Don't make that noise," I muttered.
"What noise?" she asked, far too innocently.
I pushed myself up onto one elbow, putting a dangerous few inches between my mouth and her skin. "This is my first time visiting my fiancée's home."
"That is true."
"And we have hours until dinner."
"That is also true."
"So why don't you show me around?"
Rias blinked. Then her gaze dropped. Very deliberately. To the obvious bulge in my trousers. Her teeth caught her lower lip, and for a second I could practically see the argument happening behind her eyes. Noble responsibility on one side. Devil instincts and the fact that we were already on her bed on the other.
Eventually, responsibility won. Barely.
Rias let out a long sigh and sat up, smoothing her dress down over her thighs with more frustration than modesty. "You are being annoyingly sensible."
"I know. It feels wrong."
"It looks wrong on you."
"That hurts."
She leaned over and kissed my cheek, soft and quick. "Good."
A minute later, after we had both taken a moment to look less like we had been seconds from ruining the afternoon schedule, Rias led me out of her bedroom and into the rest of Gremory Manor.
For the next hour, I got the tour.
It was not just a house. Calling it a house felt like calling Hogwarts a school building with delusions of grandeur. Gremory Manor was a sprawling estate-palace, full of warm colors, old wealth, and the kind of magic that had been layered over itself for centuries until the walls practically breathed family history.
Rias showed me an art room first.
Apparently, several generations of Gremorys had painted, sculpted, enchanted, or dramatically commissioned pieces that were then displayed in a long sunlit chamber overlooking the gardens. There were portraits of crimson-haired ancestors, landscapes of old Gremory territory, sculptures of dragons and devils, and a moving painting of a young Sirzechs that kept trying to escape the frame whenever Rias walked too close.
"Was he always like that?" I asked, watching painted Sirzechs attempt to hide behind a painted curtain.
Rias sighed. "Yes…"
The next room was more serious.
The treasure room. A place she wouldn't even be allowed to show me if we were not engaged.
Rias opened the door only after placing her palm against three different crests and speaking a family phrase in old demonic. The air inside was cooler, quieter, and heavy with preserved power. Glass cases lined the walls. Pedestals stood beneath shimmering containment fields. Weapons, armor, cracked gems, old banners, ceremonial blades, and relics from wars I had only read about sat in careful silence.
"These are from the Great War?" I asked, stopping before a fractured spearhead that still radiated faint holy energy.
"Some of them," Rias said. Her voice had changed. Softer. More respectful. "Others are older. Some belonged to Gremory commanders. Some were taken from battlefields. Father says the room is not meant to glorify war. It is meant to remind us what it costs."
I looked at a cracked helm with one side melted inward.
After Kokabiel, after the stadium, after seeing students die and Fallen Angels fall from the sky, I understood that a little too well.
Rias's hand found mine. I squeezed it. We moved on.
Eventually, after corridors, sitting rooms, a music hall, a ridiculously large bathing wing that Rias showed me for exactly eight seconds before turning bright red and dragging me away, and a balcony overlooking a garden full of red flowers, we ended up outside.
At her family's private stables.
I expected horses.
Or, because this was the Underworld and nothing could ever just be normal, maybe some kind of magical horse-like animal. Something like thestrals, but with crimson eyes and a taste for noble etiquette. Maybe winged demon stallions. Maybe fire-maned chargers. Maybe giant wolves with saddles.
I stepped into the stable courtyard and stopped.
Camels. Dozens of camels. Perfectly ordinary camels?
They stood in neat rows of spacious stalls, chewing, blinking, occasionally making awful gurgling noises like the universe had tried to invent a creature specifically to sound smug. Their long necks bobbed. Their lips wobbled. Their enormous teeth flashed when one of them turned toward us and opened its mouth around a wad of hay.
I stared.
The camel stared back.
It chewed. Judgmentally.
"Rias," I said carefully. Wanting to ask what was up with all the camels.
She had gone rigid beside me. Then she clung to my arm. Not in the warm, possessive way she usually did. She clung to my arm like I was the only solid object in a world gone horribly camel-shaped. "They're so gross," she muttered.
I looked down at her. Her face was pale. Actually pale. Rias Gremory was staring at a row of ordinary camels like they were eldritch abominations.
"They smell," she whispered. "They bite. They spit. Their mouths are awful. Why do they chew like that? Why are their knees like that? Why did my ancestor have to have a camel thing? WHY DO THEY HAVE TO BE THE SYMBOL OF OUR HOUSE!?"
I tried not to laugh. I failed. A chuckle slipped out.
Rias snapped her head toward me. "Harry!"
One of the camels made a bubbling grunt.
Rias flinched and pressed harder against my arm. She was too cute. I had never seen her like this. Rias was usually confident, warm, sensual, occasionally possessive, and always carrying the weight of being the Gremory heiress even when she tried to pretend she was just another student. Here, faced with a barn full of perfectly ordinary camels, she looked like a girl who wanted to climb me to escape a spider.
"Who knew," I said, grinning, "that the mighty Rias Gremory was terrified of camels?"
"I am not terrified!"
Another camel turned its head and showed us its teeth.
Rias stepped behind me.
I looked over my shoulder.
She glared. "They are vile creatures."
"They look harmless. I'm pretty sure none of them are even magical…"
"That is how they trick you!"
I looked back at the nearest camel.
It blinked. Then it went back to ignoring me.
She tugged on my arm. "Distract me."
"With what?"
"Anything!"
I smiled and turned enough to put myself between her and the nearest stall. Her fingers remained locked around my arm. If anything, she squeezed tighter.
"Fine," I said. "Last night, my new aunt Ingvild had her welcoming party."
Rias's grip eased a fraction. "Your new aunt? The Leviathan girl that made my brother freak out for like an hour straight when he found out about her?"
"That's the one, and yes, she is my new aunty." I shook my head. "Still strange to say."
"I imagine."
"It went better than I expected. She was nervous at first. Overwhelmed. Which makes sense. Waking up after nearly a century, finding out your old world is gone, being adopted into a Satan's family, and then immediately having Serafall cry all over you would overwhelm anyone…" I explained slowly.
Rias smiled faintly. The camel made another noise. Rias hid her face against my shoulder.
I kept talking.
"My peerage really liked her. Hermione was gentle with her. Asia was shy but sweet. Ginny tried to make her laugh and succeeded by nearly knocking over a dessert tower. Fleur and Gabrielle were being very careful not to overwhelm her, which lasted ten minutes before Gabrielle started asking about old Leviathan songs."
"Songs?"
I nodded. "That was the surprising part. Ingvild is quiet. Really quiet. She watches everything like she's afraid the world might vanish if she blinks too hard. But when Gabrielle asked, she mentioned that her mother used to sing."
Rias's expression softened.
"So Serafall asked if she remembered any of the songs." I smiled at the memory. "Ingvild nearly disappeared into her chair. She was bright red. But everyone was encouraging without pushing too hard. Selene told Serafall to stop vibrating in place. Sona actually sat beside Ingvild and said she would like to hear it, if Ingvild wanted to share."
"That sounds like Sona."
"It was very Sona. Formal enough to give Ingvild space. Warm enough that she knew it was real."
Rias leaned against me a little more, the camel terror slowly losing its hold. "And then?" she asked.
"And then Ingvild sang." I went quiet for a moment. The stable faded a little in my mind, replaced by the memory of Ingvild sitting in the Sitri manor's blue-and-silver hall, hands folded tightly in her lap, purple hair falling around her face. She had looked like a girl standing at the edge of a cliff. Then she opened her mouth. "Her voice was incredible," I said softly. "I mean, genuinely incredible. Like..."
I hesitated.
Rias watched me.
"Like an angel," I admitted. "Except she's a half-devil like me, so obviously not."
Rias snorted.
I grinned.
I glanced down at her. "By the end, Ingvild was smiling and that's what mattered the most."
Rias's hand slid down from my arm to lace with mine. "I'm happy for you," she said quietly. "For all of you. For the Sitri family."
I looked at her. Her earlier fear had softened into something gentler, more thoughtful. The camels still existed, unfortunately, but Rias had stopped looking like she expected them to launch a coordinated assault. "Usually," she said, a teasing edge returning to her voice, "it is my family getting up to all sorts of crazy shenanigans."
"Shenanigans?"
"Yes. Gremorys are known for warmth, loyalty, scandal, and dramatic emotional decisions."
"That sounds accurate."
"But ever since you came to the Underworld," she continued, poking my chest with one finger, "the Sitri clan has really changed."
Before I could decide whether to defend myself, deny responsibility, or proudly accept credit for turning the Sitri family into a traveling disaster wrapped in noble paperwork, a new voice spoke from right beside us.
"Change is good and exciting. If nothing changed every time I woke up, then I just might stay asleep forever!"
I startled.
My head snapped to the side, demonic senses flaring out in instinctive alarm because someone had just appeared close enough to touch me without me noticing a single thing.
That had happened to me before, but usually the culprit was Ophis, a god, or someone else with a complete disregard for how reality was supposed to work.
The girl standing beside us beamed as if she had not just casually violated every layer of awareness I had developed over the past year.
She was pretty.
No, that was underselling it. She was beautiful in a way that felt oddly familiar. Crimson hair fell in twin tails on either side of her head, and an adorable tiny crown sat perched above them like a child had been asked to design royal authority and had chosen "cute" as the primary requirement. Her face could almost have passed for Rias's younger sister's. Same warm Gremory coloring. Same bright, dramatic presence. Same sort of beauty that made the word "subtle" leave the room quietly.
Her body, however, made the little sister comparison far more complicated.
She was short enough to look younger at a glance, but her figure was very much not childish. Her chest was almost comically large on her smaller frame, making her look like someone had taken the general idea of Rias, compressed the height, increased the mischief, and added a crown.
Rias went very still beside me.
"Hi there," I said carefully, smiling because when mysterious powerful women appeared from nowhere in my life, politeness had a better survival rate than panic. "I'm Harry."
The girl's grin widened. "Hi, Harry! You can call me Runy-tan, and I'm Rias's adorable little sister!"
Rias sputtered. "Y-you are not—!"
Runy-tan ignored her completely.
I looked between them.
Rias's expression said that was absolutely not true. Runy-tan's expression said truth was merely a boring social construct and she had much better things to do.
That raised questions. Unfortunately, before I could ask any of them, Runy-tan turned her pout on Rias. "And how can you still be afraid of camels after all these years?" she demanded, planting both hands on her hips. "Camels are the cutest and bestest animals ever, and no descendant of mine should ever be afraid of them!"
I blinked. Descendant?
I glanced at Rias. She was covering her face with one hand.
I looked back at Runy-tan. "Didn't you just say you were her little sister?"
Runy-tan smiled brightly. "Yes."
"And now she's your descendant?"
"Yes."
I waited. She did not elaborate.
I chuckled despite myself. Why would Rias's family tour not include a mysterious crown-wearing, twin-tailed, camel-loving ancestor pretending to be her little sister? That would be too normal. Clearly the Gremory household had standards to maintain.
Runy-tan leaned toward me, her eyes were suddenly wide with curiosity. "Harry, what do you think of camels?"
Rias's hand clamped around my arm again.
I looked at the nearest camel. "They're..." I paused. "Okay, I guess?"
Runy-tan gasped as though I had driven Viviane's sword directly through her heart. One hand flew to her enormous chest. "Okay? …Just okay?"
I suddenly felt as if I had failed an exam I had not known existed. "I mean, I don't have anything against them."
"THAT IS NOT ENOUGH!"
Rias whispered, "Harry, run!"
Runy-tan threw one hand dramatically into the air. "I MUST SHOW YOU THE GLORY OF CAMELS!"
"That really isn't necessary—"
"Come forth, Camey-chan!" She snapped her fingers.
From the center of the pens, one of the camels lifted its head. At first, it looked ordinary. Perfectly normal. A camel with long legs, a lumpy back, suspicious lips, and an expression of profound indifference toward all living things.
Then it started trotting toward us.
Still, to my senses, it was nothing. Just an animal.
Then it reached Runy-tan.
Demonic power poured off it like a tidal wave.
My eyes widened.
The camel nuzzled Runy-tan's cheek while she jumped up and wrapped both arms around its neck in a hug.
The thing was Ultimate Class. The ordinary camel was not an ordinary camel.
Rias's fingers dug into my arm hard enough that even I felt it. "I told you," she hissed. "I told you they were hiding their dark evil powers."
I stared at Camey-chan.
Camey-chan stared back. With power.
Runy-tan patted the camel's neck. "Camey-chan is my precious baby and the finest warrior of the glorious camel horde!"
"The camel horde?" I repeated. I had so many questions…
Rias made a tiny sound beside me that might have been despair.
Runy-tan spun around, one arm still wrapped around Camey-chan's neck, and pointed dramatically at us. "Camey-chan, I choose you!"
I blinked. No. There is no way.
"Attack my foolish descendant and her fiancé until they both learn the glory of the camel horde!"
For half a second, I honestly thought she was joking. She had to be joking. This was Rias's ancestral home. We were guests. Dinner was in a few hours. The camel's name was Camey-chan. No one unleashed an Ultimate Class camel in the middle of a noble estate tour.
Then Camey-chan opened its mouth. A red-gold light gathered in the back of its throat.
"Fuck!" I grabbed Rias around the waist. My devil wings exploded from my back in a rush of black, and I launched us straight upward just as the camel fired a fucking laser out of its mouth.
A beam of concentrated demonic energy tore through the space where we had been standing, blew apart the stable gate behind us, carved a glowing trench through the courtyard stone, and detonated against a distant ward barrier with a thunderclap that rattled the windows of Gremory Manor.
Rias screamed. Partly in terror. Mostly in outrage. "I TOLD YOU!" I shot higher, wings beating hard, Rias clinging to me with both arms wrapped around my neck and both legs locked around my waist.
Below us, Runy-tan stood in the stable courtyard with both hands raised, cackling happily.
I hovered above the manor, staring down at the smoking line carved through the grounds. "Your family," I said slowly, "has an Ultimate Class laser camel…?"
Rias buried her face against my shoulder. "Now you see why I hate coming to the stables."
Below, Runy-tan cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up at us. "Behold the majesty of Camey-chan! Accept the camel! Love the camel! Become one with the camel truth!"
Another glow started building in Camey-chan's mouth…
– Grayfia Lucifuge –
Grayfia set a cup of steaming tea down in front of her King.
Her husband.
Her Sirzechs.
The porcelain touched the desk with barely a sound, placed precisely on the small silver coaster to the right of his paperwork. The tea was brewed exactly how he preferred it when exhausted: dark, fragrant, a touch of honey, no milk, with a single curl of cinnamon bark steeped for precisely two minutes and removed before it could overpower the blend.
Sirzechs noticed. Even when his eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, even when his usually effortless smile looked worn at the edges, even when the weight of the Underworld rested across his shoulders like a mantle of lead, he still glanced at the cup and softened. "Thank you, Grayfia."
"You are welcome, Sirzechs-sama."
He gave her a faintly wounded look. "I thought we were alone."
"We are."
"Then must I be Sirzechs-sama?"
Grayfia's lips curved by the smallest amount. "At the moment, yes. I am currently your maid."
Sirzechs sighed with the theatrical despair of a man who ruled the Underworld, faced down gods, negotiated with angels, and was still helpless before one silver-haired woman in a maid uniform.
Grayfia stepped behind his chair.
The office was quiet except for the distant murmur of manor staff, the faint tick of an enchanted clock, and the restless whisper of documents shifting themselves in stacks on the desk. Red afternoon light filtered through the tall windows overlooking Gremory territory, painting the room in warm gold and crimson.
Usually, Sirzechs looked at peace here.
Today, he looked tired.
Grayfia understood why.
Diodora Astaroth had attempted to kill Harry Sitri.
That alone would have been enough to create a political disaster. Harry was Serafall's son, a Sitri prince, Rias's betrothed, an Ultimate Class half-devil. An attack on him, especially inside Lucifer Land, could not be treated as youthful arrogance or noble rivalry.
But then came the investigation.
Diodora's peerage. The methods by which he had acquired them. The coercion. The manipulation. The abused former holy women. The girls taken from Church territory, broken away from their faith, isolated, and made dependent. The ugly possibility that Heaven might discover exactly what one of the old devil nobility's favored sons had been doing beneath the polite mask of clan prestige.
If Heaven learned the full details before the Maou could control the narrative, Michael would be forced to respond. That would not be good. The Prince of Heaven was not someone you wanted as an enemy.
And as if that were not enough, another living Leviathan descendant had been found.
Ingvild Leviathan, now Ingvild Leviathan Sitri, adopted by Selene Sitri and accepted into Serafall's family as a little sister only yesterday.
Grayfia suspected half the Underworld's political class had not slept either last night.
She knew Sirzechs certainly had not. He had spent the last twenty-four hours moving between emergency reports, Maou council communications, sealed messages from Ajuka, private warnings from Serafall, furious requests from old noble families, and careful instructions to ensure that Heaven never learned about Diodora's victims from anyone except them, at a time of their choosing, with every possible reparation already prepared.
It was a great deal of stress for anyone. Especially Lucifer, perhaps, because Sirzechs cared.
That was one of the reasons she loved him. Grayfia placed her hands on his shoulders and began to rub.
Sirzechs melted almost immediately.
His head tipped forward. His eyes closed. A low, grateful sound slipped from him, honest and unguarded in a way only she was allowed to hear. "You," he murmured, "are the bestest wife."
Grayfia's fingers paused for half a heartbeat. Then she resumed, kneading carefully along the tension gathered at the base of his neck. "Bestest is not a word suitable for the current Lucifer."
"It is when the current Lucifer is correct."
"I am currently your maid," she reminded him, voice smooth.
One of her thumbs pressed into a knot just beneath his shoulder blade. Sirzechs groaned.
Grayfia leaned closer, letting her breath brush his ear. "And perhaps my master needs some stress relief."
Sirzechs went very still.
Grayfia smiled.
For all his power, for all the impossible pressure he could release when pushed, for all that he was Sirzechs Lucifer, one of the strongest devils alive, he could still become adorably nervous when his wife changed the tone of a room.
"Do we have time?" he asked, far less confidently than the ruler of the Underworld ought to ask anything. "We have dinner with Rias's betrothed soon."
Sirzechs glanced toward the window, then back to the papers on his desk. "And I did want to take the opportunity to get to know Harry better. Properly, this time."
Grayfia considered that. Then she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "You will have time to speak with him at dinner."
Sirzechs reached up, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips. "And before dinner?"
Grayfia's smile turned sensual. "Before dinner, my master has been working too hard."
His fingers tightened around hers.
She moved around the chair with unhurried grace and stood before him. His eyes followed her. They always did. Even after all these years, even after marriage, war, politics, duty, and enough absurd family incidents to fill several memoirs no one would be allowed to publish, Sirzechs still looked at her as though she were the most beautiful woman in the room.
Grayfia allowed herself to enjoy that. She lifted one hand to the top button of her maid uniform.
Sirzechs swallowed.
The first button slipped free.
Then the second.
His paperwork was forgotten. Good.
Grayfia had just begun to draw the fabric open when an explosion echoed from outside the manor.
The windows rattled. The desk trembled. One of Sirzechs's carefully sorted stacks of documents collapsed sideways in a sliding avalanche of parchment.
Grayfia stopped.
Sirzechs blinked.
A second later, a distant alarm bell began ringing.
Then another.
Then, faintly, through thick walls and reinforced wards, came what sounded suspiciously like his little sister screaming, followed by a burst of demonic energy and the unmistakable discharge signature of something very powerful firing across the estate grounds.
Sirzechs stared toward the window.
Grayfia stared at Sirzechs.
He exhaled slowly. Then he said, with the resigned calm of a man whose family had long ago trained him to accept the unacceptable, "It appears my ancestor Runeas is awake again."
Grayfia closed her eyes in irritation. The timing of that woman...
"After sleeping for almost a decade this time, if I am not mistaken," Sirzechs continued. Another boom rolled through the manor. Sirzechs tilted his head slightly, listening. "And that would be Camey-chan."
Grayfia opened her eyes.
Her husband looked thoughtful. As if an ancient Gremory ancestor awakening and apparently unleashing an extremely dangerous camel somewhere near his sister and future brother-in-law was an inconvenience to be placed somewhere between "rain before a garden party" and "shortage of dessert forks."
"Dinner," Sirzechs said, "is going to be even more interesting this time."
Grayfia's lips pressed into a thin line.
She looked down at her open uniform. Then at Sirzechs. Then toward the window, where another red-gold flash briefly lit the sky beyond the curtains.
Her romantic moment was ruined. Again. For a moment, Grayfia allowed herself to pout. Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice, of course. She was Grayfia Lucifuge. Head maid of the Gremory household. Queen of Sirzechs Lucifer. A woman of dignity, discipline, and immaculate control.
But Sirzechs noticed. His expression softened with immediate guilt. "Grayfia—"
"I will inform the staff," she said crisply, buttoning her uniform back up with more force than strictly necessary, "and the chef about the changes to tonight's dinner guests." Grayfia smoothed the front of her uniform, restoring every line to perfection. "Lady Runeas will require a place setting."
"And Camey-chan?"
Grayfia looked at him.
Sirzechs coughed. "Right. No place setting for Camey-chan."
"There will be no camels in the dining room!" she declared firmly.
Sirzechs pouted. Unlike his little sister, he actually took after his ancestor and did like camels. "Of course, dear..."
A third explosion shook the windows. This one was followed by a faint, delighted voice from outside shouting something about 'the great camel truth!'
Grayfia inhaled slowly and with great care. "I will also prepare calming tea for Lady Rias…"
XXX
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