Prince of Unicorns

Chapter Two

The next day dawned just as bright and cold as the day before, and Ginny sneered a little as she looked out her window. A perfect, frigid day to be tramping about the Forbidden Forest in search of her missing wand, she thought sarcastically before grabbing her warmest cloak and leaving Gryffindor Tower. She checked carefully to make sure no one was following her before slipping out of the castle and into the icy cold day.

If she knew generally where her wand was, she could just use the summoning charm, she thought bitterly. Unfortunately, she had no idea, and the forest was a huge place.

She had just left the large stone steps that led down to the grounds when Malfoy’s horribly familiar, silky, and irritating voice called out from the doorway, “Weasley. As I suspected, sneaking out again.”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” she snapped over her shoulder.

“I would have thought you’d learned your lesson yesterday. After all, you nearly got me killed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed and I saved your life. I would have thought you’d be apologizing now, but then again, you are a Malfoy, after all. Apparently I overestimated you.”

Draco’s lips twisted in a smug smile. “Ouch, a Weasley insulting my family name. Are we going to resort to insulting each other’s mamas next, or is that even beneath your standards?”

Deciding she had more important tasks at hand than exchanging insults with Malfoy, Ginny started off across the snow towards the forest. Used to being the one dismissing and not the one dismissed, Draco watched her, startled. It only lasted a moment, and he leapt off the steps and went after her.

“Going back into the forest?” he asked lazily, his long stride easily matching hers. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s it to you?” she replied irritably.

“Well, being the conscientious, upstanding student we both know I am, I might have to report you. It is, after all, called the Forbidden Forest for a reason.” His tone was smug again and Ginny scowled.

“You report me, Draco Malfoy, and I’ll tell everyone exactly where I found you yesterday and how I saved your life. Knowing you, you’d hate for anyone to know you owed your life to a Weasley.”

Draco smirked. “I wouldn’t have been caught by that thing if it hadn’t snuck up behind me and attacked me with a weakening spell while I was following you.”

“Following me? What were you following me for? And why are you following me now?”

“Merely doing my duty as an older and more magically advanced student and ensuring the younger Hogwarts students keep in line is all.” His smile was very nearly predatory. “Where are you going, Weasley? Certainly not into the forest again.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “I’ve got to go into the forest, Malfoy, and nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

“Good. I shall enjoy being the one to cause the first Weasley to be expelled from Hogwarts. I believe I shall accompany you.”

“Into the forest? Then you’ll be expelled as well.”

Smiling innocently, Draco shrugged. “My father is powerful enough to see that I don’t get expelled for an act of heroism that results in saving the poor, worthless life of the youngest Weasley child. So you’ll be going home a disgrace and I’ll be a hero. A fair trade, I’d say, for tramping around the forest after a bratty little Weasley.” They were nearly at the forest now and Draco’s gray eyes were speculative as he scanned the trees. “What’s so important that it’s worth risking your life and mine by going back into the forest anyway?”

“I’m not risking your life, I’m only risking mine. You’re coming of your own free will. And if you must know, I lost my wand while dragging you back to Hogwarts yesterday.”

For the first time, Draco looked startled. “You dragged me?”

“Worried about your robes, Malfoy? I assure you, they weren’t damaged. And yes, I dragged you. You fainted and I dragged you back to the castle on my cloak.”

He looked at her again, something strange that she couldn’t decipher in his cold eyes. “I did not faint,” he said mildly. “I may have collapsed, but I did not faint. And why didn’t you just leave me there? I would have just left you, had it been me.”

She shrugged. “Difference between you and I, Malfoy, is that I have a conscience.”

They had reached the trees now and Ginny moved ahead of him, following the trampled path through the snow as she had done the day before. Draco smirked a little and followed, glancing around the dark forest.

He had spotted footprints heading into the Forbidden Forest the day before, on his way to the Quidditch pitch. They had run parallel to a strange, trampled path through the snow and, curious, he had followed, catching up to Ginny as she spoke to the tree. He had been about to call out to her, hoping to use the knowledge of her transgression to blackmail her (maybe threat of expulsion was enough to force her to give him the password to the Gryffindor common room, he’d nearly kill to get that) when a soft noise behind him had made him turn.

The weakening spell, though weak itself, had caught him off guard and he had lost consciousness. The next thing he remembered, he had woken up in the snow with Ginny Weasley staring down at him. They had walked a bit and he had blacked out and woken up in the hospital wing.

And now, here he was again, in the Forbidden Forest, trailing Ginny on yet another mad quest.

“I suppose, given your family’s financial situation, suggesting you merely owl your parents and ask for another wand is out of the question,” Draco sighed wistfully.

“I suppose,” Ginny mimicked, “Given your family’s financial situation, suggesting that you owl your father and ask him to buy me a new wand, given that I lost mine saving your worthless life, would be out of the question?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Draco replied solemnly. “Us Malfoys, we feel our existence is so highly prized in the wizarding world that saving one of our lives isn’t heroism, it’s to be expected in the same way that it would be expected for a house elf to give its life for its master.”

Ginny tossed him a disgusted look and turned away before he could crack a grin to let her know he was joking (for the most part), and Draco scowled instead. Why he would want to joke around with a Weasley he couldn’t tell, but it certainly didn’t make the situation any better that she wasn’t even giving him enough time to joke with her.

“You really don’t have to come,” she said a short while later, as she climbed over a fallen log. “You can report me just as well when I get back to Hogwarts.”

He smirked a little. “Yeah but what if you never come back?”

Her eyes were wide and startled when she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I can hardly be called a hero if you never come back. Then I’ll simply be known as The Prat Who Didn’t Report Ginny Weasley In Time To Save Her Neck. Really, now, what sort of title is that?”

Ginny shrugged. “We already call you The Prat Who Woke Up With A Broomstick Stuck Somewhere Painful so, really, what’s the difference?”

Draco laughed. It surprised her and she realized it was because it was self-deprecating rather than sneering and cold. She’d never heard him laugh before, other than his snickers when he was making fun of someone. “Do you really? I would have thought That Insanely Handsome Slytherin With The Perfect Fashion Sense would have made more sense.”

Ginny didn’t bother to reply. She could see the talking tree up ahead and she still hadn’t found her wand, despite studying the snowy ground carefully as she walked. She must have dropped it when she had started helping Malfoy walk away from where she had saved him from the monster.

“I remember this,” Draco said suddenly. “This is where the creature attacked me. We could just follow the tracks it left over to where you found me, because you had your wand then, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I used it to scare the creature away. But we can’t follow the tracks, Malfoy. The thing didn’t leave any. It floated.”

Draco looked impressed. “What sort of creature do you suppose it was?”

But again, Ginny wasn’t paying any attention to him. “Hello,” she called to the tree. “It’s me again, Ginny Weasley. May I pass?”

The tree shuddered, it’s huge, dark knot-eyes squinting at her. “Well, hello Ginny. Of course you may pass. But who is that boy?”

Ginny glanced at Draco over her shoulders and thought for a moment before turning back. “He’s… A friend of Harry’s as well.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue and Ginny stomped on his foot, hard enough to make him gasp.

“He looks quite familiar. Is he all right?” the tree asked. “He sounds like he’s in pain. He looks quite sickly to me, far too skinny and pale. Does that boy ever go outside?”

“I’m outside now, aren’t I?” Draco said stiffly, bristling under the critical inspection.

“Yes, I suppose you are.” If possible, the rough voice of the tree sounded doubtful. “But any friend of Harry Potter’s is a friend of the Prince. You may pass. And might I suggest, young man, that you invest in clothes of other colors than black? It makes you look dreadfully pale. Some nice violet perhaps, or green. Yes, green would work wonders for your complexion, and—”

Draco looked like he was about to murder the helpful tree and Ginny grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she hissed, pulling him around the tree and following the animal tracks on the other side. Draco glanced over his shoulder once, hatefully, before finally jerking his arm away and walking beside her.

“What was that, anyway?” he asked. “It was terribly rude. Besides, I happen to think black suits me very well. And what was that about me being Potter’s friend? I didn’t know you had it in you to lie.”

“That was a guard of some sort, and I told it you were Harry’s friend because that was how I got it to let me by yesterday and you’re lucky I did.”

“Trees,” Draco snorted. “I’m not afraid of trees.”

“You should be. Or have you not noticed that Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds?”

Draco fell silent, scowling sullenly as Ginny searched the ground for her footprints from the day before. “I went off the trail somewhere around here. The trees make it too dark to really see, if I had my wand,” she shot him a meaningful look, “Perhaps I could make it lighter.”

Draco frowned before realization lit his eyes and he pulled his own wand out of his pocket. “Lumos,” he said, and shimmering light lit up the wand.

“There!” Ginny cried. “My tracks.”

They followed them into the clearing where she’d scared away the monster, Ginny kicking at the snow and searching for her wand while Draco admired the residue magic marks on the trees her spell had left.

“Impressive, Weasley,” he commented after a moment. “What spell did you use, anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“George and Fred taught me it, it’s a spell to make explosions, like fireworks. Harmless, but loud and bright. The creature fled, dropping you over there.” Her voice was vague as she searched the perimeter of the small clearing, scowling.

“Maybe you dropped your wand as we walked,” he suggested.

“I suppose,” she sighed. “I could have.”

They turned to follow the path they had left the day before when Draco’s foot caught on something, causing him to stumble and the something to fly forward a short way, in a clump of snow.

“My wand,” Ginny cried, running forward and scooping it up, ignoring the icy snow that stung her fingers. She was smiling broadly. “This is brilliant, I wasn’t sure we’d find it.”

Draco didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on something over her shoulder. “What,” he said in an even tone, “is that?”

Ginny looked, and her stomach seemed to go icy with fear. “It looks like the same thing I saw carrying you off yesterday,” she whispered.

The shadow was sweeping across the snowy ground, back and forth, as if searching for something. It made no sound and still seemed to glow with that soft blue light.

“A shadow?” he said incredulously. “I was carried off by a shadow?” His voice was soft; he didn’t want the thing to hear.

“It has a mouth,” she told him. “It held you in its mouth, but it had no teeth. It was the strangest thing.”

They watched the creature sweep through the trees, slowly making its way further away from them, and just as slowly they relaxed. Whatever it was looking for, it hadn’t found it. They didn’t want to be whatever it was searching for.

It was nearly out of sight when a loud, sullen voice right behind them called out, “Oy! You there!”

The shadow froze, turning slowly. It was just a shapeless black lump, not a shadow in that it didn’t just block the light, it seemed to attract it and swallow it. They couldn’t see any eyes but they could tell it was facing them; they could see its mouth, a black cavern on a shapeless lump that must have been the thing’s head, and it was pointing right at them.

Around them, a slight breeze picked up as the creature began sweeping forward, gaining speed as it advanced on them.

“Run,” Draco hissed. “If it gets close enough, it’ll do a weakening spell and we’ll have no chance.”

They both broke into the fastest run they could manage, given that snow covered the ground and made everything that much more difficult. The creature that had called out indignantly to them and had drawn the attention of the black thing ran after them, its tiny feet easily skipping across the snow. “Hey! I have something I’d like to say to you, Ginny Weasley,” the little creature cried as it hurried to keep up with their much longer legs. It was a terribly small creature that looked almost like a potato. A potato with legs.

Ginny didn’t pause to hear what the little thing had to say, her mind was occupied with bigger, scarier things, like the shadow-thing that was quickly gaining on them.

Draco’s legs were longer and he could go faster, moving through the snow easier than she could, but he was only a few steps ahead and kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure she didn’t fall too far behind.

The force of the creature’s weakening spell caught her in the back of the knees and sent Ginny falling face-first in the snow. It slowly worked its way upwards from there, a cool tingling in her muscles as it forced each one to gradually relax, despite her panicked breathing and her mind screaming to get up and run.

Draco heard her hit the ground and, squeezing his eyes shut in disgust, wishing he could run and leave her there, he turned around. Despite all his cold words earlier, he knew he couldn’t run and just leave her there. She had saved his life the day before.

He ran back to stand over her, pulling his wand out and facing the shadow-thing with far more courage than he actually felt. He flicked the wand and called out, “ Adustum Culmen !” A weak pillar of flame flew forward, but the creature was not so easily frightened today as it had been the day before.

It sped forward, cracking another weakening spell on Draco that sent him backwards into the snow, flailing weakly as his muscles lost the strength to do much more than flop about harmlessly, like a turtle on its back.

Ginny had rolled over onto her back, using the last of her strength, and now she stared up at the thick canopy of twisted trees that blocked out the sky. She was still breathing quickly but could feel consciousness drifting away like mists of the morning.

Beside her, she heard Draco’s own panicked breathing.

Her eyes were just sliding shut as the shadow-thing bent low over her, when a voice rang out through the forest. “Away, greelie.” It had the unmistakable ring of authority, silky with arrogance, and cold with command. The shadow slunk away and Ginny forced her eyes to remain open, her sluggish mind trying to remember just who it was that voice reminded her of.

The speaker came into her line of vision a second later, glancing down at her, his head tilted a little to the side as he considered her. Silver-blonde hair fell low over one of his silver eyes and his smile was cold.

“Malfoy?” she managed to whisper weakly.

He pursed his lips and nodded once, extending one flat, opened hand over, calling to the shadow thing, “You have indeed done well. Bring them to the fortress. All three of them.”

Three, Ginny wondered. Who was the third?

She didn’t have any more time to wonder. The hand above her snapped shut into a fist, pulling the last of Ginny’s consciousness away. She went limp in the snow, her eyes glazing over and then slowly closing, her breathing softening until it was barely there at all.

A split second later, Draco did the same.

***

Hermione scowled. “I hate this game,” she told Ron.

He smirked, “That’s only because it’s the only thing I’m better at than you are.”

“That’s right, Ron, if you need wizard’s chess to make yourself feel better than me, than by all means, indulge in your inferiority complex and destroy my queen. I don’t particularly care.”

“Liar,” Ron said brightly, as he moved his knight to the square where Hermione’s queen had been standing. The queen slapped the knight and left in a huff.

Harry was pacing the common room, his hair even more messed up than usual. “This just isn’t right,” he muttered for about the twentieth time since Hermione and Ron had begun their game.

“What isn’t?” Hermione asked absently as she studied the board.

“It’s my seventh year at Hogwarts! My last year! And it’s nearly half over, and no one has made an attempt on my life, no evil magic is brewing that has come to my attention, and…” he trailed off. “And your sister isn’t out of bed yet!” Pointing an accusing finger at Ron, Harry wore a fuming scowl. “It’s just not right, if she’s hiding an adventure from me, I swear, I’ll be furious. You know I will be, Ron, you know it. She’s acting irresponsibly, and—”

“You just want to be the one who charges forward in shining armor on a white steed to rescue her and you know it, Harry. You’ve developed a terrible knight in shining armor complex recently, you know.” Hermione kept her eyes on the board, biting her lip as she thought her move through carefully.

“A steed? Why on earth would anyone go charging off on a steed when they’ve got a perfectly good broomstick?” Ron was getting irritated, waiting for Hermione to make her move.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Hermione explained “Practically every Muggle girl dreams of being swept off her feet by a knight in shining armor.”

“On a steed.” Ron still sounded incredulous.

“Yes. On a steed. Broomsticks were so uncomfortable until the cushioning charms were put on them in the middle ages. And besides, they’re Muggle knights, they’d look perfectly ridiculous, prancing about with a broom between their legs. Besides, I like horses. They work perfectly well for chess, don’t they?” Hermione finally moved her knight forward and glanced up at him expectantly.

“I’d take a broomstick any day, personally,” Ron replied, taking her knight with his queen.

“Well then, it’s a lucky thing you aren’t a damsel in distress then, isn’t it, Ron?” Hermione replied, picking up the pieces of her pawn with a scowl. “A steed is much more comfortable to sit on and much easier to stay on, especially if you are sitting sidesaddle is as customary for damsels to do.” Her eyes brightened suddenly and she moved her rook forward a few spaces, taking a rook. She smirked smugly.

Ron made an unexpected move involving his queen and called out triumphantly, “Check mate.”

Her king surrendered to his queen and Hermione’s scowl returned. She turned to Harry who was still pacing the common room and mumbling about the lack of adventures. “Harry, maybe no one wants to kill you this year. I’d take it as a reprieve if I were you, I mean, honestly. Do you want someone to try to kill you this year?”

“It’s just… it isn’t right.” Harry turned his wide eyes to Hermione. “Please, Hermione, would you go and check that she’s still up in the dormitories? Something just isn’t right. Wake her up and make her come down, I have to talk to her about the whole Malfoy thing yesterday.”

“Let her sleep,” Hermione said, scowling as she tried to figure out exactly how Ron had beaten her this time.

“Oh, calm down, Hermione,” Ron said brightly. “You’re just upset because Ginny didn’t come crying to you in the middle of the night and tell you the whole story like she usually does.”

Hermione glared at him but didn’t argue because she knew it was true. She was hurt that Ginny hadn’t confided in her like she usually did. “Are we going to see Hagrid about that tiger?” she asked instead of commenting on Ron’s statement.

Harry’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, but first I want to make sure Malfoy’s fainting thing wasn’t connected to it. Maybe he had something to do with this whole thing. I mean, I don’t believe in coincidence and it was pretty strange that this thing happens with him right when the tiger-monster shows up. Ginny has to tell us what she knows.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I think you’re searching too hard for an adventure, Harry. Relax and enjoy life the way we knew it before we met you. No offence or anything.”

Harry just rolled his eyes and Hermione hurried upstairs, deciding that the sooner she got Ginny out of bed, the sooner they could go see about the tiger.

Hermione marched to Ginny’s bed and threw the covers off. Ginny wasn’t there.

“Oh, Harry is going to be thrilled about this,” she sighed. “Someone’s gone on an adventure and didn’t invite him.”

***

The icy cold was the first thing Draco became aware of as he slowly regained consciousness. The second thing he noticed was that his wrists were shackled above his head.

He opened his eyes and squinted in the semidarkness, trying to see where he was. There was only one torch in the room and its light was weak and greasy, hardly illuminating anything at all. From what he was able to see, he could tell that he was shackled to a rough stone wall that dripped with cold water seeping through the rock. The room was small, carved out of nearly black stone, with a low roof and an uneven floor. There was a small wooden door on the wall furthest from him, beside which the single torch sat in a bracket attached to the stone. Ginny lay on her back on a small, woven grass rug, untied.

He nudged her leg with his foot and she moaned a little but didn’t wake. Draco glanced around again and wrinkled his nose. It was disgusting, it was dirty, and it was dark. His father would hear about this, that was for sure.

He scanned the room a third time, and that was when he noticed the thing lying on the floor beside Ginny. Small, round, and shaped like a potato…

“Hey,” he called out, watching the potato for any sort of threatening movement. He had never seen anything like it.

Ginny’s eyes fluttered open at his voice. Her voice was low and husky as she carefully sat up, one had on her head. “Draco?” she called weakly.

Draco was still watching the potato distrustfully. “Here,” he answered her, his eyes narrowed.

Ginny glanced at him, her eyes widening when she saw his shackles. “You’re chained up! Why? I’m not.”

He glanced away from the potato and smirked at her. “Whoever brought us here probably knows how clumsy you are and knows you’re not a threat, unlike me. He obviously fears me. But that thing,” he jerked his head in the direction of the potato, that was even now stirring and beginning to wake, “isn’t chained up either. What is it?”

Ginny glanced at the thing and her eyes widened. “This is what called out to us, isn’t it?” she asked. “The shadow-thing heard it and found us because of this little guy, I don’t believe it.”

“What is it?” Draco asked, nearly at the end of his patience.

“It’s a garden gnome,” she replied slowly, staring down at the potato in shock. “But what on earth is a garden gnome doing in the Forbidden Forest?”

“A garden gnome?” Draco asked, staring at the potato-thing in horror.

“Surely you’ve seen one before?” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Surely I haven’t,” Draco replied stiffly. “There aren’t any of those creatures at my house and even if there were, I certainly wouldn’t go about looking for them.”

Ginny had stopped listening, used to Malfoy’s snotty prattle by now and able to tune it out. She was inspecting the gnome carefully, looking for wounds. “Do you suppose it’s all right?” she asked him finally.

Malfoy didn’t hear her. He was too busy mentally cataloguing every ache and pain in his body, as well as attempting to inspect the shackles on his wrists for a brand name. Even the manufacturer of the shackles would not escape punishment for this degradation when he got home.

After covering the unconscious garden gnome with her cloak, Ginny sat down on the stone floor heavily, glancing at Draco, who was still trying to read the inscription on the shackles in the weak torchlight.

“Malfoy,” she said finally.

He lifted his head, flicked his pale hair out of his eyes, and smirked. “What?”

“Did you see that man? The one in the forest who called the shadow-thing off?”

Draco tilted his head for a moment, thinking. “Not really. It was all shadowy.”

“He looked familiar,” she said reluctantly, glancing away.

“Familiar. Lovely. Who did he look like and why should it matter to me?” Draco’s smile was twisted coldly and his eyes were flat with boredom.

“He… Malfoy, he looked just like you.”

Rather than look disturbed by this, Draco smirked. “Was he as deliciously handsome as I am, Weasley?”

Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her arms. “It’s not funny, I don’t know why you’re laughing, Malfoy. We’ve been kidnapped by a Draco Malfoy look-alike in the Forbidden Forest with a garden gnome. Hardly something to giggle about.”

Draco looked affronted. “I don’t giggle,” he said.

Ginny rolled her eyes before getting to her feet and inspecting the small cell. She tried opening the door and found it locked. The rock walls were rough, there were no windows, and she could hear no sounds from outside the room. She considered the room thoughtfully. “How do you suppose the air gets in?” she asked finally.

Draco shook his head, ignoring her question. “No wonder you lost your wand, Weasley, have you even thought to check your robes to see if you’ve still got it?”

Feeling herself blush and hating herself for it, Ginny snapped, “You haven’t checked for yours either, Malfoy.”

He rattled the chains that were attached to his shackles pointedly but didn’t reply, and Ginny felt her blush go a few shades redder. She checked her pockets but the wand wasn’t there.

The torch was faltering and spitting and Ginny spun around to look at it in horror. It went out a second later and the tiny cell was cast into darkness, a sudden claustrophobia settling over her and making her breath come in harsh, startled pants.

A high-pitched, whining scream split the air, followed closely by, “You rogues! You bandits! What have you done to me? Blinded me! You’ve blinded me!”

Ginny was still frozen in the center of the room, trying desperately not to suffer from a panic attack when she was assaulted from behind. The garden gnome, having woken up when the torch went out, had attacked her ankles.

“Let go!” Ginny shrieked, kicking out her leg and screaming as she tried to kick the gnome off and jump out of harm’s way.

The gnome wasn’t letting go and, remembering Fred and George teaching her to degnome the garden, she reached down and grabbed it by its legs, tugging hard. She tore it away from her ankles and held it high in the air, upside down. The particularly articulate garden gnome thrashed and tried to bite her. “Gerroff me!” it squealed.

Ginny smiled grimly and tightened her hold. “Not,” she said, “until you calm down and listen to me. We didn’t blind you, the torch went out. We’ve been locked in a little stone cell and—”

“My Prince would never lock me in a cell!” the gnome cried, weeping pitifully. “Never.”

“Your Prince? There’s a Prince of Garden Gnomes?” Ginny sounded very doubtful and Draco snickered from somewhere in the darkness.

The little wails cut off indignantly. “Not that prince,” he said regally. “Be

sides, he’s not a prince. It’s the Gibblet of Garden Gnomes who leads us, not a prince.”

“But you said Your Prince —”

The gnome scoffed. It sounded like something between a cough and a sneeze. “Yes, I said My Prince, but not ‘My’ as in mine, ‘My’ as in ours!”

Draco cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s grammatically correct.”

The gnome’s silence, this time, was one of shock. “You don’t know of The Prince?”

“Which prince?” Ginny was getting very sick of this entire conversation. No wonder she had never conversed with a garden gnome, they talked in circles and never got anywhere.

“The Prince of Everything,” the gnome said in a hushed tone. “The High Prince. The Prince of Truth and Lies.”

Draco made a snorting noise in the darkness and Ginny herself felt rather skeptical. “Who?” she asked, trying to keep her voice tactful and delicate.

“The Prince,” the gnome whispered dramatically. “Of Unicorns.”

Ginny waited, holding her breath, for a bolt of lightening or burst of thunder, a drum roll, anything that would follow a name spoken in such reverent tones. There was nothing but expectant silence and then the sneezy-sound of a gnome’s cough.

“Rubbish, if you ask me,” Draco said finally in a bright tone. “If there was a High Prince Of Everything or whatever, as you claim, I certainly would have heard of him. Being a Malfoy and all, I mean.”

“Being a Malfoy,” the gnome hissed, “you would naturally be the last to know of Our Prince. Or the last to acknowledge him, anyway.”

The door flew open and slammed against the stone wall then, echoing in the tiny chamber and cutting off any sharp questions Draco may have come up with. Standing in the doorway was a tall, graceful figure dressed in green velvet robes that did indeed go well with his complexion. His hair was silver-blonde and fell down to his shoulders, curling just a little at the ends, and his eyes were the cold colour of a winter sky. He wasn’t smiling and, except for his hair being a little longer, he looked nearly identical to Draco.

Before she could stop herself, Ginny’s grip on the legs of the garden gnome loosened and it dropped do the ground, bouncing once and coming to rest face down. It’s muffled shrieks about being blinded all over again were ignored when Ginny gasped out loud, without thinking, “The tree was right, Malfoy! Green really does work wonders for your complexion!”