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.
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."
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.
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