Once upon a time, in a land not entirely far away, there lived a young girl named Ginevra Molly Weasley. Miss Weasley, I regret to inform, did not have any nasty enchantments placed on her at birth by an evil fairy (though she did think her freckles and long nose were curses enough). There weren't even any good fairies attending her christening (but there were three fat Great Aunts, who were good enough in their own way, when they weren't trying to give her slobbery kisses).

It must also be stated that while it is true our heroine is the youngest of seven children, her family were all very respectful towards her and loved her dearly, neither treating her like a servant nor cherishing any ambitions to sell her off to an evil witch for the sake of gaining riches. I know, it is quite disappointing. I think it would have been much more exciting if she had been sold as a slave; then I could have told you a moving tale about a poor girl, unwanted by her family, who is sent off to live with an old woman boasting one eye and a dark appetite for collecting the heads of all the men she ensnares with her pretty slave-girl . . .

Alas, it cannot be, even if our heroine's family did decide to sell her to a woman with one eye. You see, Ginevra (or Ginny, as most call her) is not beautiful. Her red hair, brown eyes and freckled skin are as common as they come, and her figure is neither fairy-like nor remarkable. Personally, I think her lack-lustre appearance is the most disappointing thing of all. I so wanted to describe a beautiful heroine – you know the ones: long, glossy dark hair, starry blue – no, violet eyes – and flawless features. But instead I get this – this thing. And, yes, it is a thing. Have you seen her when she eats? It is quite unattractive.

But I digress. We were discussing Ginny's family, which I stated did not want to sell her into slavery. Her family, admittedly, are poor, but they're so disgustingly happy at being poor simply because they have – and I quote – 'each other' that it wouldn't even occur to them to sell the only female child they have for money. As I said, they were a rather tame bunch.

Our heroine can't even boast to having an evil stepmother, as her biological one is still alive. Quite inconsiderate of Molly Weasley, if you ask me. If she'd just died in childbirth like she was supposed to, we might yet be able to scrape together some semblance of an exciting plot. But no, she just had to live through that last birth just as she had all six others. And little Ginny was properly spoiled by said biological mother, so if you were hoping for that one to be evil, you'd best dispel such delusions now (although I do have it on good authority that the Weasley matriarch's Mystery Stew is indeed evil, and should be left exactly as described: a mystery).

I can imagine by now that you might be wondering why such an unremarkable girl from an equally unremarkable family should be the heroine of our story. Well, I'll tell you. It's because the Big Man – or should that be Big Woman? – said so. I'm just doing my job – fairy tale narrators like me don't get a say, you know. We just tell the story, so here I am, telling the story.

And what a tedious one it is. I'm staring at the notes, reading about Ginny Weasley's happy life as a child, which is filled with good-natured bickering with her brothers, broom rides and food. So much food. I wonder she hasn't turned into a big freckled ball yet.

Oooh, now here is something exciting:

Ginny Weasley, age eleven, is possessed by a magical diary and almost dies while giving her life force to Tom Riddle – also known as Lord Voldemort.

Ahh, I see some promise here. Yes, there's even a hero who comes charging in to save the day. But wait! There is no kiss, not even a little declaration of love. Flobberworms and Gargoyles, there's not even a happily ever after! The poor dear just gets pushed to the background while everyone goes parading on about this Harry Potter creature, who, it seems, had the audacity to save her without actually fulfilling his role as a hero.

I should have known! This is what happens when you have a hero who wears round glasses and has an ugly scar on his forehead. If he had wavy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, and – and a charming smile, I'm certain he would have done the proper thing and kissed her before declaring his undying love for her, thus fulfilling the happily ever after quota.

Oh, the tragedy. I can't believe what they're making me work with! There is nothing here for a good fairy tale. Nothing at all! Just look at this girl's life! She spends most of her time mooning after that runt with the glasses or trying to best everyone on the Quidditch pitch. How intolerably boring.

You know, this really won't work. I see there is nothing for it: I'm just going to have to take measures into my own hands. For one thing, I refuse to work with a hero who wears glasses and has an ugly scar. I don't care how much his green eyes shine like emeralds, he is not being the hero of this story. Besides, that hair of his is really quite atrocious. I refuse to look at it. It's bad enough I get stuck with a plain heroine, but why on earth must they give me a runty hero as well?

No, I won't stomach it. Something must be done. All I have to do is find a new hero, figure out a way to get Ginny's life progressing to more suitable paths, and we've got us a proper fairy tale.

Hrm, now let's see, where are we up to. Ah, yes:

Ginny Weasley, age sixteen, is bemoaning the fact that she has a Muggle Studies essay on folklore due.

Perfect. Now if I just add a bit here, put in a little of this there . . . and voila! I am genius.

Well, now that I've got that sorted, I can focus on more important matters, like finding a good hero. I wonder if there are any handsome blonds in this vulgarly named castle of theirs . . .

What? You want to know what is going to happen to Ginny? Oh, all right then. I'll start us off. Ahem.

Once upon a time, in a castle (vulgarly) named Hogwarts, there was a plain and freckled girl named Ginny Weasley, who was currently bemoaning the fact that she had a Muggle Studies essay on folklore due.

"Essays, essays, essays," Ginny grumbled under her breath, stomping down the hallway. "It's always bloody essays."

She had thought that Muggle Studies was supposed to be mostly practical work: like learning how to use a toe-star to make crispy bread, or something like that. She did not think it was going to involve two-page long essays about Muggle folklore and how the stories relate to the magical world.

"Like I really give a rat's arse about any of it," Ginny ranted, now storming through the doors to the library.

Before we go any further, it must be explained that Ginny Weasley detested fairy tales. The heroines, in her opinion, were always doe-eyed and beautiful beyond imagination. The heroes had the personality of a cardboard box and were inevitably handsome, if not clichéd. And the plots themselves were ridiculous and, so it seemed to her, were simply a ploy to get children to behave – for every fairy tale had a moral.

"Moralistic rubbish," Ginny muttered, then smiled in satisfaction, pleased at her assessment.

Her smile quickly faded, however, as she reached the section on Muggle folklore and saw the sheer amount of books on the subject. She had no idea where to start or even what she was looking for. Really, she had only taken Muggle Studies because everyone said it was easy; she had never known she would actually have to pay attention.

Ginny sighed exasperatedly and pulled a book at random from the shelf. It had a brown cover, made of leather, and was embossed with little vines and flowers, shaped around the words, The Book of Fairy Tales. Underneath the title was a picture of a maiden sleeping, no doubt awaiting her handsome prince who would come and wake her with his kiss.

"This seems promising," Ginny murmured, opening the book and flicking through the pages.

She had barely got four pages into the book before it began to glow with a pink hue. Surprised, and more than a little disturbed, Ginny decided it would be best to put the glowing piece of literature back on the shelf when a tornado of pink light burst forth from the open pages. She screamed, throwing The Book of Fairy Tales into the air, but it was too late. The pink tornado swirled around her, drawing her closer, and then—

Well, the fact of the matter is, she simply disappeared.

Now, before you get your knickers into a twist, I will state now that she did not die. In fact, at this moment, she was simply swirling through pink tornadoes and swearing her undying loathing for the book that had caught her so off guard. You see, she had not thought to consider that the book might be magical – it was in the Muggle section, after all – but as soon as she had got sucked inside it, she had quickly realised that it was.

When the pink mists finally died, placing Ginny on her feet, she found herself standing in a room of fluffy clouds, which seemed to go on for a miles. At the centre of this room was an extremely tall tower, which was neither pretty nor ugly, but it was intimidating. There seemed to be nothing else she could do in this room except enter the tower, so Ginny did just that – she was a Gryffindor, after all.

"I see you finally made it," a voice cackled from her left.

Ginny swung around in fright, already grasping for her wand – except, as she soon realised, her wand was gone.

"Bugger," Ginny swore, and then faced the old man floating in front of her with a scowl. "Alright," she demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the wrinkled creature, "what the hell is going on? Where the hell am I? And who the—" she scrunched her face up at the toothless, prune-like man, who she had finally realised was wearing a vibrantly yellow cloak with a large sugarloaf hat on his head. "You know, never mind. I don't even want to know what you are."

"Ho ho ho," he chuckled, "there's no need to get upset, my dear. You should be happy; you're in for a rare treat, you know."

"A rare treat?" Ginny repeated dully. "And why is that?"

"Why, because you're in The Book of Fairy Tales, of course," the shrivelled prune declared, kicking his floating little legs with delight. "And I am its grand, all-knowing narrator, but you can call me Sir Gustafius Gordon Gullumpadink." He grinned at her dazed expression. "Most people just call me Gus for short."

"Well, Gus," Ginny began, pulling herself together, "why don't you make yourself useful, instead of waffling to me about yourself, and tell me how I can get out of this horrid place! I have a Muggle Studies essay due tomorrow morning, you know. I need to get back to the castle."

Gus shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid I can't help you, my dear. The only way to get out of The Book of Fairy Tales is to complete the stories and win a happily ever after."

"What?" Ginny cried in dismay.

"Oh, I'm being perfectly honest. I can't lie, you see. That's for evil hags and gnomes."

"Are you saying I'm stuck in this place?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Gus agreed affably. "I must say, though, if you plan on being a princess, I do hope you'll fix up your appearance a bit. You look awfully un-princess-like at the moment. No prince will want to be saving you."

"Why you little—" Ginny growled, lunging at the floating creature with the intention of wringing his skinny neck until he coughed up an alternative solution to her predicament – or died.

He swooped away from her, cackling and reminding her very much of Peeves as he twirled upside down and looked at her with his head between his legs. "Hitting me won't change the rules," he taunted, spinning back into his 'meditating' position. "You'd best accept your fate and be done with it or else you'll be stuck in here forever."

Ginny swore. And then, when this didn't soothe her ruffled temper, decided to swear some more. Gus frowned at her, clearly thinking her choice of vocabulary was not suitable for his fairy tale world.

"I really must ask that you stop that," he ordered. "You're in a fairy tale now; you need to be meek and – and quiet."

"Excuse me?" Ginny exclaimed, affronted. "I'll talk however I damn like."

Gus threw his hands up into the air with an exasperated sigh. "After two centuries of waiting for a new heroine, and all I get is this – this swearing sailor!"

Ginny snorted. "Speak for yourself. You're not exactly my idea of an ideal narrator."

Gus straightened to his full height, a dignified expression on his wizened face. "I'll have you know that I'm a very esteemed narrator in these parts."

"Sure, sure."

He glared at her. "You are a horrible little girl. I hope all the princes ignore you and let you die."

And with that, he threw his yellow cloak around him and vanished in a puff of pink smoke.

Ginny stared, her smug expression slowly turning to horror. He had left her – he had just left her, and now she was surely stuck in this blasted world!

"Bugger and hell," she moaned.

Realising there was no point standing in the lobby of the tower, she took a step forward, fully intending to go through the door at the other end – except something quite different happened: the floor opened up from under her feet, revealing a gaping hole.

There was a moment where Ginny was simply standing over a mass of pink clouds with her mouth ajar in silent horror. Then gravity decided to start working again, and she plummeted through the clouds, screaming her head off and calling bloody murder for the narrator named Gus.

Down she fell, arms flapping uselessly, until, finally, she landed with a hard thump on the grass. She groaned and looked around the clearing where she had fallen, but there were no markings to say where she was.

Groaning again, and feeling very ill-used, Ginny hauled herself to her feet and began walking in no direction in particular. It started to rain after a while, and she cursed under her breath – a curse that was to be repeated several times as the rain got heavier and heavier.

Finally, when it was getting dark and Ginny's stomach began to rumble unpleasantly, she saw a great castle looming in the distance.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Ginny cried.

She made her tired way to the castle and knocked at the door, shivering from the cold in her drenched state. The great oak doors were thrown open, and a man and a woman, regally dressed, stared at her in surprise.

"Who are you?" the woman asked politely.

"I'm a princess who needs shelter for the night," Ginny said, tossing out the first thing that came to her head.

"Are you sure you're a princess?" the woman asked again, taking in Ginny's bedraggled appearance and plain black cloak.

"Yes!" Ginny snapped. "Now, please, it's freezing out here!"

"Very well, then," the woman replied, opening the door further so Ginny could enter, "follow me."

Ginny walked inside gratefully, following the woman down a set of corridors to a room where a bed made of what looked like twenty mattresses and very thick blankets had been set up.

"What the hell?" Ginny exclaimed, staring at the monstrous creation in some suspicion.

"Your bed," the woman, who Ginny assumed must be the queen, stated with a half-smile. "I hope you enjoy your sleep."

Ginny watched the woman leave and then turned back to confront the massive bed. A ladder had been placed for her use, and, since she was too tired to complain anyway, she decided to just climb up the ladder and sleep in the bed.

"Merlin, but I hope I don't fall off," Ginny mumbled, settling down between the covers.

-o-

Ahem. And that is where I'll have to leave you. I still need to find a new hero, and I have just the one in mind . . .

Until next time, my friends.

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts (deedle lee deedle lee). There they are all standing in a row (bom bom bom). Big ones, small ones, ones as big as your—

Flobberworms and Gargoyles! It's you again. Ahem. I was not singing. I was just, er—

You know what? I don't have to answer to you. I am the narrator, and what are you? Nothing. So there.

. . .

What are you doing here, anyway? Ah, I suppose you want to know what happens next. Well, fine, I suppose I can carry on with the story. Now where did we leave off? Ah, yes . . .

-o-

Ginny awoke the next morning feeling very irritable indeed. She did not fall off the monstrous bed, but she did have a very uncomfortable sleep. For all her masses of mattresses and blankets, she still felt something digging into her back the whole night, and no amount of shuffling and changing positions could change that fact.

"Bloody mental, these people are," Ginny grumbled, climbing back down the ladder.

Only the most bizarre of people would force their guest to sleep on a bed of twenty mattresses, which even then felt like it had a great dirty spring digging into her body.

She dropped ungracefully to the floor and dusted off her robes, only to stop short as she saw the same queen and king standing in front of her from the night before.

"Good morning," the queen said brightly. "How was your sleep?"

"Awful!" Ginny retorted, deciding she would not waste her civility on these deceiving people. "If I wasn't worrying about falling off the damn thing, I had to put up with something sticking into my back the whole night – yes, and now I'm covered in bruises!"

The queen gasped and then clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, Trevor, we've finally found a real princess! Do let Prince Humperdinck know."

"Humperdinck?" Ginny repeated, pulling a face. "What kind of name is that?"

But Trevor had already run off. Ginny soon found herself being swept out of the room and down the corridor, the queen jabbering in her ear the whole time about a pea and how only real princesses could be sensitive enough to feel such a small thing under so many mattresses.

Ginny decided everyone in the castle was insane and was just thinking she would have to escape when Prince Humperdinck appeared before her. He had messy black hair, green eyes (which shined like emeralds), and an (ugly) scar on his forehead. He was also wearing glasses.

"Harry?" Ginny exclaimed, completely nonplussed.

How on earth had Harry got into the book?

"My name is Humperdinck," the Harry look-a-like said with a blinding smile. "And you – you shall be my wife."

Ginny stared, and then—

"No!" she said firmly, taking a step back.

"But I've been looking everywhere for you!" Harry-Humperdinck cried, looking quite crestfallen.

"Too bad," the redhead snapped, "I don't want to marry you!" She scrunched up her face in distaste. "Besides, your name is Humperdinck."

"But you can't say no. No one ever says no. I'm the prince!"

"Well, I don't think much of your high-and-mighty ways, Prince," Ginny said tartly. "How dare you demand I marry you without even asking my opinion? I'll have you know that in my kingdom, us females have rights, and I will not be bossed around by some purple-tight wearing idiot with a crown that looks like plastic!"

"My word," Trevor exclaimed, staring at Ginny as if she were a talking fish. "Are you sure this young lady is a princess?"

"She felt the pea, didn't she?" the queen retorted.

"Of course she is a princess," Harry-Humperdinck said, shaking his head. "I expect she's just delirious from the cold and sleeping on the pea. I'm sure with some rest she will realise that she really does want to be my wife, and then we'll all live happily ever after."

"I won't marry you!" Ginny bellowed, stamping her foot. "I won't! I won't! You're all mad, and when I get my wand back, I'll—"

"You mean you really won't marry me?" Harry-Humperdinck interjected, looking rather red about the ears.

"Didn't I just say that! Now—"

The prince suddenly scowled in fury. "GUARDS!" he cried, clicking his fingers. "SEIZE HER!"

"Oh, bugger!" Ginny exclaimed, and promptly made a run for the doors.

There was much leaping and shoving as the guards chased her. At one point, Ginny found the hem of her cloak being held by the panting queen, who told Ginny through gritted teeth that she was the only real princess in the land and had no choice but to marry Harry-Humperdinck or be thrown into the dungeons. With great presence of mind, Ginny kicked the queen in the face and then pushed past two guards blocking her exit, darting through the doors and screaming madly at the top of her lungs that they were all insane.

Thankfully, poor Ginny did manage to escape the castle parameters before she was forced to marry the Harry-Humperdinck prince, but the guards continued to chase her all the way into a forest. It took her a while, but she did end up losing the guards eventually; unfortunately, she also succeeded in losing herself.

"Bollocks," Ginny grumbled, staring about the maze of trees. "Where the hell am I?"

The forest made no reply (it was just a forest, after all), so Ginny was given no choice but to keep walking and hope that she would find some sign of civilisation (and food) soon. Luck seemed to be on her side that day; she had not walked for more than thirty minutes before she could hear the sound of trumpets and many people talking and laughing.

"There must be a festival going on somewhere," Ginny mused aloud, her eyes alighting with a greedy glow.

Festivals, you must know, mean celebrations, and celebrations mean food.

No longer feeling tired and grumpy, Ginny set off at a run towards the sound of the trumpets. She finally came to a very decadent looking town, which boasted an equally magnificent palace at its centre. To her delight, there was indeed a celebration going on. Upon questioning some of the locals, an old man told her that the emperor was having a procession to show off his new clothes.

"Oh, really?" Ginny replied, not particularly interested in the emperor's new clothes; indeed, she was paying more attention to the bread in her hand, which was then stuffed with surprising speed into her mouth.

"Look!" the old man exclaimed, pointing a knobbly finger in the direction of the palace. "Here comes the emperor now!"

Ginny turned to look and almost choked on her bread as she saw a very familiar boy with blond hair and pointy (yet handsome) features come walking confidently down the stone steps. The emperor was Draco Malfoy, but what stunned her most of all was that he was not wearing a strip of clothing on his body; indeed, he was completely naked.

She stared. And then she stared some more. And then her face went bright red, though whether this was from embarrassment or suppressed laughter remained to be seen, for the redhead did indeed start laughing.

"Gracious, Missy, what is so funny?" the old man asked, concerned.

"He's not wearing any clothes!" Ginny exclaimed, wiping tears of laughter away from her eyes.

The old man gave a small cough. "Well, you know, I was thinking the same thing, but I didn't want to say anything. You know what they say: only stupid people or people who can't do their jobs properly can't see the magical clothes."

Ginny shook her head, still giggling. "No way. He's just walking around naked."

The people around the redhead who had heard her comment seemed to come to the same conclusion, whereas before they had all joined in admiring the emperor's clothes, afraid lest they should appear stupid. Even Draco looked a bit uncertain the further he walked down the street. He saw Ginny doubled up with laughter, and a glint of recognition came into his eyes, and then he was striding towards her – pasty arse displayed to the world and all.

"You!" Draco growled, pointing his finger at her. "So this is your doing, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny retorted, then promptly fell into another fit of giggles, unable to keep a straight face when confronted with the naked Slytherin.

He saw her eyes dart to the lower part of his anatomy and flushed a deep red, though he made no attempt to cover himself, clearly thinking that was beneath his dignity. Malfoys, it seemed, had very odd ideas about dignity.

"I'll have you know that my clothes are special," he told her haughtily, trying to save face. "You're just too stupid to see them."

"You keep telling yourself that, Malfoy," Ginny responded between giggles. "By the way, is it a bit cold here?"

She gave him a pointed look, and his blush deepened as he caught her meaning. Without another word, he snatched the robe off the man next to him and wrapped it around his own body. Then he grabbed Ginny by the elbow and dragged her away – right out of sight from all the people who had been staring at them curiously, and who even now were demanding where their 'emperor' was going.

"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed, tugging at her arm. "Let me go!"

He released her at once and then turned to glare at her. "Alright, Weasley," Draco began, folding his arms, "what did you do?"

"What?"

"Don't give me that innocent rubbish. One minute I was doing my homework in the library, and the next thing I know I'm suddenly in this place and everyone is calling me 'Emperor'. You're the only person who has called me 'Malfoy', so I'm assuming you must be from my world too. Now I'll ask you again: what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Ginny retorted. "At least, not to you anyway. I was just trying to do some research for my essay when I got sucked into The Book of Fairy Tales. I don't know how you ended up here."

He frowned, seeming to realise she was speaking the truth. "I don't understand," he muttered, more to himself.

"Didn't that old man Gus come and visit you when you first came here?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Gus?" Draco repeated slowly. "No, but a woman named Augustus Auegentinia Arglecrumple – who liked to be called Gussie – did tell me that while I didn't have 'sparkling blue eyes', I'd have to do."

"Have to do for what?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just know that after falling through some pink clouds, I ended up in that palace back there. Everyone thought I was their emperor—"

"I bet you loved that," Ginny interposed dryly.

He looked down his nose at her. "Just because you have no respect for your superiors doesn't mean everyone else can't appreciate quality when they see it. If those people wanted me to be their emperor, I wasn't going to deny them. It's only natural they should want to worship me."

"I can't believe you said that with a straight face," Ginny said, eyeing him in a mixture of wonder and disgust. "Your ego must be really big."

"It's not being egotistical when it's the truth," Draco said simply.

"Whatever," she retorted, folding her arms.

They were silent for a moment, and then a grin suddenly came to her face. "So why were you walking around naked, anyway?"

Pink splotches settled on his cheeks. "Two men came to the palace and said they were going to make me some magical clothes."

Ginny giggled. "Those were some magical clothes, alright. They were so magical that no one could see them."

Draco gave an exasperated huff, turning away to hide his blush. "Yes, well, enough about that. We need to figure out what we're going to do from here."

"We?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, 'we'."

"I'm surprised; I didn't think a Malfoy would want anything to do with a Weasley."

"Then you must be stupider than I thought," he said shortly. "I may not like you, Weasley, but I'm not about to be stuck in this place by myself. It'll be much easier to make it out of here together."

"You're right," she agreed, much struck by this thought.

"Do you have your wand?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head.

He sighed. "I don't either. It got lost when I first came here."

"Mine too."

"I don't suppose we'll ever find the way out of here then," Draco said gloomily, looking the epitome of despair.

Ginny frowned. "Gus told me that if I acted out the fairy tales and got a happily ever after, I would be able to get out of this place. Maybe it will work for the both of us."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Draco asked, staring at her warily.

"I'm suggesting we go find ourselves a fairy tale."

"Forgive me if I say that doesn't sound like the smartest idea you've had. In case you've forgotten, Weasley, some of these fairy tales are not exactly the nicest stories. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on being eaten by an old hag living in a ginger bread house, or having my eyes blinded by a witch with the power to smother a castle in thorns."

"Then we'll be cautious about which fairy tales we look for," Ginny retorted. "If you have a better idea for what we can do, by all means tell me."

Draco glowered at her, knowing he did not have any better ideas.

Ginny smiled smugly. "Then it's settled."

She stalked off into the distance without a further word. The blond heaved a weary sigh and reluctantly followed.

"How do I get myself into these things?" he grumbled.

"Come on, Malfoy!" Ginny called over her shoulder. "Keep up!"

Draco narrowed his eyes, but quickened his pace anyway.

-o-

Hack, hack. Cough, cough.

Oh, phooey. I've lost my cough drops again.

What are you staring at? Demanding little cretins. I tell you a story and you just expect me to keep going and going. Well, I shan't. I'm tired and cranky, and I have a darn cough coming on. You should be grateful I'm taking the time to even tell you this, considering the rubbish I've had to put up with.

Just look at this mess: I have a heroine who has no grace and has the manners of a troll, and a hero who – though he may look the part – was stupid enough to go and get himself stuck in the Emperor's New Clothes fairy tale and prance around showing his naked body to all of the Enchanted Lands. This was not what I had planned for. Ginny is supposed to be trapped in a tower by now and waiting for her hero to save her. And the hero – the hero is supposed to be good and dashing, not arrogant and vain, or – or worrying more about his clothes than his lady's wellbeing.

I'll admit, he looks much better than that messy-haired scar-head we had to put up with earlier, but why oh why must he have the heroic instincts of a – well, of a Flobberworm!

Blast it! Why do I always get stuck with people who refuse to conform to my fairy tale archetypes? I should have called in sick. I should have gone and hid in a cave! I should have done something – anything – except agree to be the narrator of Ginny Weasley's life!

That's it. No more nice narrator. From now on, they're playing this my way!

Hack, hack. Cough, cough.

Ahem, but first I need to find my cough drops.

Ahem. Are we all comfortable and ready to continue the story? You're not going to suddenly run off to the loo, are you? Because I won't stop for you if you do. This isn't a luxury cruise; I'm not here to cater to you or your weak bladders. Or your crying babies, for that matter. Or anything else you feel might steal your attention. As a wise pirate once said: those who fall behind stay behind.

All settled then? Good.

Then let me present to you the final (and fabulous) instalment of Ginny Weasley's adventures. We last saw our hero and heroine walking aimlessly through the Enchanted Lands, searching for a fairy tale to both of their likings. Needless to say, our heroine was looking as plain and freckled as ever, and our hero as handsome (and arrogant) as ever. They were an odd partnership, to be sure (I still believe she would have looked much better with glossy black hair and violet eyes), but they were stuck with each other, so they had no choice but to tolerate the other's company. For now.

"I'm hungry," Ginny complained.

"You're always hungry," the blond retorted. "I'm surprised you haven't started chomping your own arm off."

"I don't eat people," Ginny said simply. "And if I did, I'd hardly start on myself – the logical choice would be to start on you."

Draco looked at her in alarm. "R-right," he said a little uneasily, and continued to watch her suspiciously long afterwards.

They seemed to walk for miles before they came across what they thought might have been a fairy tale, but the blond did not like the look of the little house in the forest and told Ginny they had to keep walking. She complied, thinking those skulls outside were a little suspicious, and so they continued their trek, passing giant beanstalks and cats wearing boots, before they came to another town with a palace perched on top of the cliff-face.

"Merlin, how many of these palaces are there in this world?' Ginny mused aloud.

"Apparently quite a few," Draco said dryly. "Come on, let's try this town here."

They entered the town and had not gone more than a few metres before a woman, who looked suspiciously like Umbridge, came out of a house and sighed audibly in relief at the sight of them.

"There you both are," the woman exclaimed, ushering them both into the house before they could get a word in. "I've been looking all over for you two."

"Oh?" Draco said, casting a bemused glance at Ginny.

"My dear Dracosilla, can you have forgotten that the prince is holding a ball to look for his future wife tonight? And you were so eager to marry him yourself – that is, if Anastasia doesn't get there before you."

Draco was just about to tell her that his name was not 'Dracosilla', and that he had no interest in marrying any princes, when Ginny gave an unmistakable giggle. He frowned at her, saw the wide, amused smile she was giving him, and then glanced down at himself. His mouth dropped open in horror. Somehow – and he would kill the person who did it – he was wearing a green dress, and his blond locks, which had previously been short, now reached below his waist.

"No," Draco breathed, clutching at the long, silky hair, his face paling. He stared at the dress again, an even more dismayed expression twisting his handsome features. "No!"

"Oh, don't worry, darling," the woman soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get you looking nice and pretty in no time for the prince." Her eyes fastened on Ginny. "And what are you smiling about, Cinderella?"

"I, uh—"

"You haven't finished your chores, so don't think I'll be letting you go to the ball to meet the prince."

"C-chores?" Ginny repeated, looking rather lost. "What chores?"

"The ones you neglected to finish," the woman retorted dryly.

"But I haven't been here," Ginny said, frowning.

"Don't you answer back to me, girl!" the woman hissed, spittle flying out of her mouth. "When your father died, I kept you here out of the goodness of my own heart. I treated you like a daughter, even though I already had two of my own. And how do you repay me? By refusing to do your chores when you're told!"

Ginny shuffled awkwardly on her feet, lowering her gaze to the floor. She would have liked to have shouted back, but since she felt certain that the woman was deranged, she decided not to risk it. Who knew what the Umbridge look-a-like might do?

The Umbridge woman let out a deep breath through her nostrils. "Now then," she said, calming considerably, "get that mop and start cleaning the floors. I want them to be shining by the time I finish with Dracosilla here."

Draco's eyes lit up with wicked glee. "You mean Weasley has to clean like a servant while I don't have to do anything?"

"Naturally, dear," the woman, who seemed to believe she was Draco's mother, said with a fond smile.

"Excellent," Draco remarked, then threw a smirk Ginny's way. "I told you the people here know quality when they see it."

"Oh, shut up," Ginny retorted with a scowl.

He laughed and then, pausing only to wish her a fun time, trundled away with his 'mother' to get dressed up for the ball. Apparently, he felt that going drag for the night wouldn't be so bad if it meant he could lord over Ginny Weasley. Malfoys, I must say, were a very strange breed of creatures – quite their own species when it really comes down to it.

Meanwhile, our plain heroine soon discovered (after much ranting and flying spittle) that the Umbridge woman had been quite serious about desiring her to clean all the floors. Since Ginny had not completed this task, the poor redhead soon found herself being locked in the kitchen area and was told she would have to stay there for the night and get all the dishes done or else she'd get the strap.

Ginny curled up by the fire and sobbed heartily as 'Dracosilla', Anastasia, and the Umbridge woman all went off to the ball without her. It seemed so very unfair that she should be stuck in this nasty little house, doing all the cleaning, while Draco got to be pampered and go to the ball. Not that Ginny exactly wanted to be pampered by that Umbridge creature, but it was still unfair!

In Ginny's mind, these fairy tales were horrible things – not charming or delightful at all. And everyone seemed to love Draco Malfoy, while she was always stuck being the dregs (having Harry Humperdinck want to marry her didn't count, since he and his family were all crazy and had made her sleep on a pea – a pea, it must be noted, which miraculously had the power not to be squashed by the twenty-odd mattresses that had been placed on it, and still cause her discomfort).

It was just when Ginny was giving up hope of ever finding her happily ever after, that a flash of sparkly stuff suddenly burst before her vision. She coughed and covered her face, protecting her eyes. When she pulled her arm away, she saw a woman (who looked remarkably like McGonagall) standing in front of her, wearing a frilly pink dress and holding a wand in her right hand.

"Ugh!" Ginny exclaimed without thinking, scrunching up her face.

Now she understood why the Head of Gryffindor only ever wore dark colours. Minerva McGonagall looked terrible in pink.

"Well, then," the McGonagall look-a-like said briskly, "you'll be the girl wanting to go to the ball."

"B-but I can't go to the ball," Ginny said, sniffling. "I've been locked in here."

"Nonsense! If I say you will go to the ball, you will go to the ball."

Ginny looked a little dubious. "How are you going to achieve that?"

"Because I'm a fairy godmother, of course," the other retorted, as if that should have been obvious. "Now then—" she swished her wand "—bibbity bobbity boo!"

Ginny blinked, and then she found herself wearing a very beautiful white dress with glass slippers. "Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, twisting and turning to admire her outfit more.

"Yes, yes! Very lovely, I'm sure," the fairy godmother said impatiently. "Now hurry and get in the carriage, girl. I'm on a tight schedule, you know."

"Carriage?" Ginny repeated, frowning.

The fairy godmother heaved an exasperated sigh and blasted a hole in the wall, revealing a large carriage (which really looked like a pumpkin that had sprouted wheels) waiting for her outside. Six horses had been harnessed to the carriage, ready to spirit her off to wherever she wished to go.

"There is your carriage," the fairy godmother said shortly. "Now, off you trot. I'm late for a christening in the Slumbering Princess Valley."

Ginny couldn't even get a word of thanks in before the fairy godmother disappeared with another explosion of sparkly stuff. Shrugging, and thinking she really should have expected something mad like this to happen, Ginny hopped inside the carriage and was soon rattling along in 'pumpkin' style to the white palace perched on the cliff-top.

The ball was already well underway by the time Ginny entered the palace. She hesitated at the top of the stairs, staring down at the glittering throng of people. Her eyes found Draco, who was looking really quite pretty (for a male) in a blue dress, with his silky hair styled a la Medusa. There were a lot of men crowding around him, and while this appeared to be making the Slytherin uncomfortable, he seemed to take a twisted delight in the fact that he was getting more attention than his 'sister', Anastasia, who was actually a proper girl.

Ginny thought there was something deeply disturbing about the image of the blond looking pretty in a dress and having men fawn over him – even more disturbing than the time she'd seen him walking naked down the street. She turned her attention away from Draco, her gaze resting on the man now staring raptly up at her from the bottom of the stairs. Her jaw dropped. Surely this was the man of her dreams. His gorgeous wavy blond hair, his sparkling blue eyes, his—

Her eyes narrowed. Bugger and hell. The man was bloody Lockhart!

"For Pete's sake," Ginny growled. "Doesn't anything ever go right in this place?"

The Lockhart look-a-like came bounding up to her, a dazzling smile on his lips.

"Save it," Ginny muttered, walking past him. "I'm in no mood."

"But you are—"

"What?" Ginny snapped. "The woman of your dreams? The most beautiful creature you have ever beheld?"

He nodded, his eyes fixed seriously on hers. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

She blushed (for he really was quite handsome), and fidgeted with her hair. "Oh," was all she could think to say.

"My name is Prince Charming," he said with another of his blindingly perfect smiles. "What's yours?'

"G-Ginny," she stammered, understandably dazzled by the force of his smile (it was said to be the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!).

He took her hand and kissed it worshipfully. "Ginny," he murmured, still holding her hand. "I'm enchanted."

She gave a nervous giggle – all this attention from a handsome (and older) man was not at all what she was used to – and then carefully extricated her hand from his. "Shouldn't you be talking to your other guests as well?" she asked.

"But I want to stay with you."

Ginny blushed again, and was just thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she indulged just this once in a flirtation with the handsome blond, when another blond – though much less charming – suddenly appeared beside her and latched his hand firmly around her elbow.

"Excuse us," Draco growled, giving a curt nod to Prince Charming, and then dragged Ginny out of the palace.

"What are you doing?" Ginny snapped, trying to wrench her arm free. "We could have got our happily ever after from that palace!"

"No," Draco muttered, "you would have simply got a kiss from that wig-wearing wanker, and I would have been stuck with a whole lot of men trying to get up my skirt."

"Were they really?" Ginny asked, momentarily diverted.

"Yes," he said, shuddering at the memory.

She suddenly remembered that he had left her back at the house while he went to the ball, and a spiteful smile came to her lips. "Well, it serves you right! I can't believe you left me to clean like a slave while you went off to be 'prettied up'. And then, you had the nerve to agree with your 'mother' that I should be locked away in the kitchen! How could you, Malfoy? We're supposed to be a team!"

Draco shrugged. "I was only playing the part."

She laughed without humour. "You were playing the part, alright. It makes me wonder which side you're really throwing the Quaffle for."

"Just what are you implying?" Draco demanded, glaring down at her.

"I don't know, but it seemed to me you were almost enjoying the attention of those men."

"I am not gay," he stated flatly.

"Uh-huh."

His glare intensified, for her scepticism was obvious.

"I'm not!" he insisted, this time more emphatically.

"Sure you're not – that's why you allowed yourself to be put in a dress, had your hair styled, and flirted with lots of men so you could one-up your sister. Yep, that's not gay at all."

Draco made a low growl in his throat and grabbed her roughly by the waist, pulling her closer to him. Before she could react, his lips were on hers, hard and demanding. She made a muffled sound, but he only held her tighter, parting her lips effortlessly as he gave her the soundest, most demanding – not to mention very, very skilful – kiss she had ever experienced in her life.

He wrenched his lips away from hers, the both of them breathing heavily as he glared down at her.

"I'm not gay," he said again, daring her to state otherwise.

Ginny nodded breathlessly, still too stunned from the ruthless attack that was Draco Malfoy's kiss to do anything else. It didn't even matter that he was still wearing the pretty dress and ridiculous hairstyle. He was all man in that moment – all delicious, kissable, passionate (and heterosexual) man.

"Right, then," he said, walking ahead, "let's get out of this bloody town before your Prince Charming comes looking for you."

Ginny nodded again, still trying to pull herself together. The feeling finally crept back into her legs, and she hurried after Draco, only to let out a loud curse as she stood on a sharp stone.

"Oh, bollocks!" she muttered, hopping on one foot. "I lost my glass slipper."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. I suppose you want us to look for it?"

"No. They were uncomfortable anyway."

And with that she pulled off the other heel and tossed it backwards, hitting Prince Charming in the head – though, it must be stated, neither Draco nor Ginny realised what had happened. I, however, being an omniscient narrator, see all, and so can tell you that the slipper did indeed hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious. What happened to him afterwards neither interests me nor has any relevance to this story. So, if you're willing, we shall now skip several minutes of tedious travelling and begin again when Draco and Ginny had both escaped the town and were expressing their relief at having their clothes (and, in Draco's case, hair) finally go back to normal.

"Oh, thank Salazar!" Draco praised, feeling his shortened locks. "I thought it would never go away."

"I have shoes again!" Ginny announced happily.

Their jubilation lasted for a while, but then Ginny's stomach rumbled, which seemed to be their cue to keep moving (I believe our young hero may have been worried that Ginny might really succumb to her supposed cannibal tendencies if she didn't get something to eat). So they walked, and they walked, and they argued, and they walked some more. And then, finally, they came to another forest.

"Oh, great," Draco said dryly, "another forest. I wonder what delights are waiting for us in there."

"Well, we won't know until we find out, so let's go," Ginny ordered, marching briskly into the forest.

She was not afraid of the forest; she was not afraid of anything! Besides, she could smell something delicious cooking and was quite eager to discover if it was indeed the roast meat she thought it.

The blond, not so ruled by his stomach, was much less eager to follow the scent of the food. However, he followed her into the forest all the same, resigning himself to whatever fate might lay in store for them. He'd already been made a laughing stock by appearing naked in front of a whole city of people, not to mention had been forced to wear a dress. A murderous hag would be a nice respite for him.

In the end, both were disappointed. They did manage to find a small cottage, but there were no murderous hags lurking about, nor was there any sign of the scrumptious roast meat that had led them to the house. Ginny, who was not ready to give up so easily, barged into the house without even knocking, but there was no meat inside either. She did, however, find some bread and cheese, and proceeded to stuff it into her mouth.

Draco eyed her with distaste. "You do realise you're stealing someone's food."

"Mph domph carf," she retorted, munching happily.

He rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, examining the rest of the house. It was very small, as was the furniture. It was then he noticed the furniture seemed to come in sets of seven. There were seven chairs seated at the long dinner table, and seven chairs dotted around the lounge. Nor did this trend change in the bedroom up stairs, where he found seven tiny beds – all with name plaques attached to them – dotted neatly around the bedroom.

Draco frowned. "Doc," he read from one the plaques, "Grumpy, Sleepy, Bashful . . ."

He trailed off, his frown deepening. What stupid names these people had.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion from downstairs. Draco quickly hurried down, where he found Ginny – still clutching a slice of bread in one hand – being confronted with seven glaring little men with beards. Dwarfs.

"That beast stole our food!" a very grumpy looking dwarf bellowed, his face red.

"I don't – ACHOO – believe – ACHOO – we should – ACHOO—"

"Oh, shut up!" the grumpy one snapped. "No one can ever understand you anyway, so why bother saying anything at all?"

Draco had to agree with the grumpy dwarf, but then he felt something collide with his boot, and he glanced down to see a dwarf sleeping soundly against his leg. "Wonderful," he said dryly.

His voice seemed to alert the dwarfs that there was another 'beast' in their home, and they quickly turned on him, demanding an explanation of why he and his greedy friend had broken into their house and ate all their food. Draco was about to say something cutting in reply when Ginny rose magnificently to the occasion.

"Please forgive us, noble dwarfs," she said in her most winning voice, "but I was so hungry – almost dying from starvation, in fact. I didn't realise you would get so upset if I ate some of your bread and cheese. And it was only a very little, you know, just to quench the hunger."

One of the dwarfs went bright red, though this one seemed to be flushing more from embarrassment than anger. "T-that's quite a-alright, M-miss," he stammered. "I d-don't mind if y-you eat my bread and c-cheese."

She smiled gratefully at the bashful dwarf and then turned her beseeching eyes to the others. One by one they seemed to deflate under that sorrowful gaze – even the grumpy one, though he did continue to mutter under his breath.

"Well, if it was to save your life, I suppose there is no harm done," an elderly dwarf said seriously. "But you must know that stealing is bad."

"Oh, yes," Ginny said solemnly. "Stealing is very, very bad, and if you had been here, I would have naturally asked you for your food. But I was just so hungry," she finished with a sigh, giving them another apologetic smile.

Draco stared at her in wonder, quite taken by her lying abilities. And, indeed, said lying seemed to have done the trick. The dwarfs were more than happy to accommodate the two intruders after that, even putting their seven little beds together so Draco and Ginny could get some sleep.

Since Draco refused to sleep on the floor, and since Ginny had warmed up considerably to the blond after he had so vigorously kissed her, both had no qualms in sharing the bed together. Indeed, the redhead even dared to snuggle up to him – just a little bit – under the pretence of saying there was not enough room. If Draco doubted the sincerity of this excuse, he didn't say anything, for which Ginny was glad.

It was not long before the two fell fast asleep, watched over by the seven dwarfs who had so kindly allowed the two teenagers into their home. There was nothing to disturb the peace of the moment – nothing, that is, except a certain raven-haired witch, who was currently staring at her mirror with a disgusted expression on her face.

"Who is that red-haired girl?" she demanded of the mirror, still glaring at the sleeping redhead.

Normally the mirror showed her own face every time she asked that all-important question of who was the fairest woman in all the lands. But today – today the mirror had shown a girl with red hair and freckles, who most definitely was not the fairest of them all (even on her best days). The mirror was adamant, however, stating quite simply that Snow White was the fairest of them all, for she had a good heart – something the extremely beautiful queen would never have.

The queen cursed her mirror, and then she cursed the redhead. And then – then she thought of a cunning plan, one as evil and cruel as her own hardened heart.

"We'll see who is the fairest of them all, little Snow White," she said with a rich, malicious laugh. "We'll see."

-o-

Bing Bong!

We interrupt this story to announce that your narrator has gone off to have a toilet break. Please remain seated until her return.

In the mean time, feel free to admire the dancing Cabana Boys who have been hired for your viewing entertainment.

Ahem. Sorry about that. I got a little carried away with the free drinks. But I'm here again now, so we can continue with the story.

What's this? You're saying I'm a liar and a hypocrite? You're actually saying you'd rather keep watching those dancing Cabana Boys than listen to a well-respected narrator like myself?

Ungrateful cretins. I should have known something like this would happen. And after all the effort I went through to make the story interesting for you.

What? You're saying I only changed Ginny's future to suit myself?

. . .

I suppose you think you're awfully clever. Well, I don't need to answer to you. And since you're stuck in this room with me, you'll just have to listen to the rest of my tale. Mwahahaha—

Hack, hack. Cough, cough.

Oh, phooey. Now where did I put those cough drops . . .

-o-

Ginny rolled over in the bed, a slow smile touching her lips as she saw that the blond was still lying beside her, his eyes firmly shut. He looked so adorable when he was asleep: his hair all mussed, and his hands fisted under his chin. Even his expression was softer, almost vulnerable. It made her want to snuggle up even closer to him, but she resisted the urge, knowing he probably wouldn't like it if she did.

She could hear shuffling and talking coming from downstairs and wondered what the seven dwarfs were doing down there. She didn't even know what time it was, but her stomach soon told her by its uncomfortable rumblings that it was nearing at least some kind of meal time.

Never one to deny her stomach, Ginny got out of the bed – though was careful not to wake Draco – and then made her way down the stairs. She was immediately greeted by Doc, the elderly dwarf, who told her that she and Draco had slept right through the night. Not wishing to disturb them, the little dwarfs had slept on the seats downstairs.

"But now we've got to head off," Doc continued, gathering his things together. "We've got work to do."

"Oh," Ginny said, feeling a little sad the dwarfs were leaving so soon. They were quite nice once one got to know them. "I suppose you want Draco and me to leave, then."

"No, no," he responded with a smile. "Stay for as long as you like. We'll be back later, but I'm sure you won't mind taking care of the house for us while we're gone."

Ginny, quite naturally, agreed that she wouldn't mind at all, and so she sent the dwarfs off with a wave and a merry goodbye. As soon as the seven bearded men had passed around the corner, Ginny headed back into the house and proceeded to make some breakfast for herself, which she then scoffed down at record speed. Once finished with her meal, she sighed and collapsed onto one of the small chairs, absently rubbing her stomach.

"I'm still hungry," she complained.

Normally, she would have had no qualms in eating more food, but she was conscious of being a guest in the house. No matter how poor people might think her manners, she did have some scruples (I think if you got a magnifying glass, you might be able to see them more clearly).

In any case, as Ginny sat there bemoaning the fact that nothing in this house ever seemed to fill her up, and as Draco continued to snore obliviously upstairs, an old woman can strolling up the little path from the forest, carrying a wicker basket under one arm.

"Hello!" the old woman called cheerily. "Is anyone home? I've got some lovely apples here to sell."

Ginny's ears pricked up at the sound of apples, and she was suddenly on her feet and rushing to the door. "You have apples?" she asked, barely containing her enthusiasm.

The old woman smiled. "Why yes I do. Lots of apples."

The redhead's eyes widened with greed as she saw the basket of rosy red apples. They looked so juicy and scrumptious, and—oh, she had to have one!

Her face suddenly fell. "Bollocks! I just remembered I have no money."

"That's quite alright, dear," the old woman said kindly. "You can have one on me, free of charge." Her dark eyes glinted slightly as she passed Ginny the rosiest, juiciest looking apple of the bunch. "Here you go, dear."

Ginny clutched the apple reverently in her hands. "Thank you! You have no idea how hungry I am."

"Oh, I'm sure I can guess," the woman responded dryly.

Ginny, who was too busy munching down the apple, did not notice the scorn lacing the old woman's voice. Nor did she notice when the old lady slipped away without a further word, a satisfied smile on her lips. Nor did Ginny even notice when the old lady changed into an extremely beautiful woman just before she passed out of view. In fact, it was unlikely the redhead would have noticed if the whole forest around her had started tap-dancing and singing God Save the Queen.

What Ginny did notice was that her hands began to feel a bit tingly after a while, and that her apple somehow didn't taste as nice as before.

"I don't feel so good," Ginny moaned, and then promptly fell down dead.

Yes, you heard me correctly: she fell down dead. D – E – A – D. Dead.

This is what happens when you're over-greedy. I did say every fairy tale has a moral, didn't I? And this is the moral of my story: don't be a glutton like Ginny Weasley and you won't get poisoned by appleys. I mean apples.

. . .

What, you're saying that is a rubbish ending? You're telling me – me, the greatest narrator of them all – that I failed at my task because I didn't write a happily ever after? Well, let me tell you that I tried! Yes, damn you, I tried!

It's not my fault the prince who was supposed to rescue her from the Evil Queen decided upon finding the dead Ginny that he would not kiss her because the 'Snow White' he had so bravely set out to rescue had red hair and freckles, and was not at all like the description. It didn't help that there were bits of apple stuck to her lip either, so we really can't blame the poor prince for turning tail and fleeing.

Ah, you're wondering what happened to the blond who had been brought into The Book of Fairy Tales with our plain heroine, and who (unfortunately) only had grey eyes and not sparkling blue. Well, he was still snoring in his bed, but I suppose we can see what happens to him after he wakes up.

Ahem. Just let me shuffle my notes together, and . . .

Draco woke up later that morning to discover that Ginny had gone and there was much wailing going on outside. A quick glance out the window revealed to him that seven dwarfs were sobbing over the prone figure of a certain redhead.

Draco swore and hurried down the stairs, bursting through the doors to join the crying dwarfs. "What happened," he demanded.

Doc wiped his eyes. "Well, there was this squirrel who saw—"

"ACHOO!"

"And the—"

"ACHOO!"

"—gave Ginny an apple."

"Y-yes," the bashful dwarf interposed tearfully. "And t-then Ginny w-went—"

"Zzzzzzzz"

"So the squirrel came to us and said—"

"Why are you bloody-well asking me? I'll have you know—"

"We all came here to find—"

"ACHOO!"

"So then we—"

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Draco exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea what the hell any of you are talking about. Please, just one of you tell me what has happened."

"Ginny has been poisoned!" the dwarfs cried as one.

Draco felt his stomach plummet several feet. "W-what?" he stammered, looking very pale.

"It was the Evil Queen," Doc explained. "She came disguised as an old woman and gave Ginny a poisoned apple. I'm sorry, Mr Draco, but there's nothing we can do. Even the prince who came along to bring her back to life with his kiss decided not to help her. And I must say it was very rude of him."

Draco frowned. "You mean all someone has to do is kiss her and she'll wake back up?"

"I'm afraid it d-doesn't w-work that w-way," the bashful dwarf said sadly. "It has to b-be her tr-true love's k-kiss."

The blond stared down at the redhead, who was almost looking as white as snow in her lifeless state – even with the freckles. He seriously doubted he was her true love, but there wasn't any harm in trying, right? After all, it was as Ginny had said: they were a team. And, well, she wasn't so bad, he supposed . . .

"Alright, move out of the way," Draco said briskly, moving the dwarfs aside.

He knelt down beside Ginny and, with a brief expression of distaste, brushed the bits of apple chunks away from her lips.

"You're really going t-to ki-kiss her?" the bashful dwarf asked.

Draco nodded and then turned his attention back to the lifeless girl. "Well," he murmured, "here goes nothing."

He leaned down and kissed her, almost pulling back in surprise at the coldness of her lips. Nothing happened at first, and then he felt the warmth creep back into her cheeks, and the slight flutter of her breath brush against his face. Suddenly, her eyes opened and they stared at each other in silence for a moment: she stunned, while he looked merely smug.

"I was dead," she whispered, blinking dazedly.

"You were," he agreed, sitting back to give her some space. "Some old hag poisoned you with an apple, and then the prince who was meant to save you ran away. You're lucky I was here, really."

"You kissed me," she accused, suddenly realising how it was that she had been brought back to life.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

Ginny blushed and then she suddenly froze, a dismayed expression coming to her face. "Oh, no! Does this mean you're my true love?"

Draco's smug smile became even more pronounced. "I guess so."

"Bugger and hell!" the redhead exclaimed, covering her face with her hands.

"Well, there's no need to be like that," Draco retorted, affronted. "I did just save your life, you know."

"Yes, but now I'm going to be stuck with you forever!" Ginny wailed, still hiding her face. "Don't get me wrong: I think you're hot and all, and you do kiss very nicely, but I don't want to marry you!"

"M-marriage?" Draco spluttered. "Who said anything about marriage?"

"Hem, hem," a new voice interrupted. "If I may?"

Both Draco and Ginny turned to see Gus floating in his 'meditation position' in front of them, still in his yellow cloak and sugarloaf hat. Beside him, and wearing a collection of what looked like different coloured teacups strung together into a dress, hovered a rather mad looking woman with a pipe sticking out of her mouth.

"Gussie?" Draco exclaimed, frowning at the woman.

"Hello, handsome," Gussie said with a wink. "I see you finally found yourself a happily ever after."

"Not quite, Gussie," Gus remarked, clasping his hands together and frowning at the two teenagers. "They haven't agreed to marry each other yet."

"You mean the only way we can get out of here is if I say I'll marry him?" Ginny demanded, looking quite horrified.

"That's right," Gus responded serenely.

"It's the only way to know for sure that you'll live happily ever after, you know," Gussie added, almost apologetically.

Draco and Ginny stared at each other, identical expressions of dismay on their faces. They then turned back to the floating narrators.

"But I'm only sixteen!" Ginny complained.

"And I really do think she might be a cannibal."

Ginny stared at him. "What?"

"Er—" Draco fidgeted with his cloak. "I mean—forget that."

Gus frowned, considering them through his beady eyes. "I suppose you are very young," he admitted. "Very well, I will bend the rules for you just this once."

Draco and Ginny gave an audible sigh of relief.

"But I expect to hear some declarations of your undying love for each other in the near future."

"A little kiss or two wouldn't hurt either," Gussie added with a wink.

And with that the two floating narrators vanished in a puff of pink smoke, which then turned into a spinning tornado. Draco and Ginny barely had time to gather their wits together before they were swept off inside the tornado, travelling up, and up, and up – right through the clouds – until they broke through the shining barrier and landed with a hard thump on the Hogwarts' library floor.

"Well," Draco said, standing up and dusting off his cloak.

"Well," Ginny echoed, not really certain what else she could say.

They stared at each other, each knowing they had just shared something unforgettable together and would now have to somehow go back to their normal lives – their normal, separate lives. Except, of course, experiencing an unforgettable thing didn't really promote the desire to return to the normal and mundane, however satisfying that old life might have been. Indeed, Ginny thought she might actually like to keep that promise she made to old Gus and Gussie, because the blond was her true love, and she didn't really like the thought of having to say goodbye to him now.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me, then?" she asked after a moment.

"Alright," he agreed with a shrug.

Her hand found his, they shared a smile, and then—

-o-

Hold on a minute. It says here that Ronald Weasley suddenly interrupts Draco and Ginny by demanding – and I quote – what the bloody hell that git is doing with his sister.

Flobberworms and Gargoyles! Will this awful tale never end?

Hack, hack. Cough, cough.

Puff. Wheeze.

You know what? I don't give two figs about Ronald Weasley or his pathetic attempts to start a fight. We're going to end it right here. I am the narrator, and I don't want any beastly redheads with the voice of a snoring ogre ruining my ending.

Ahem.

So, then. Ginny stared dreamily into Draco's grey eyes (which should have been sparkling blue), and thought she really might love this boy, after all. Needless to say, there were no male redheads to ruin the moment.

Oh, and in case you haven't guessed already, they all lived happily ever after.