All You Need Is Love

Chapter Two – Where Are Your Manners?

"Highness. Highness, time to wake."

Draco Malfoy felt someone shaking his arm, bringing him out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and was ready to snap irritably at whoever it was. But to his surprise it was someone he didnÂ’t recognize. A scrawny boy of fifteen with brown hair that looked as if it were made of straw hovered over him, biting his lower lip almost anxiously.

Instantly awake, Draco sat up quickly. He was not in his bed at home anymore. He was in a larger room, with antique furniture and a lot more color than he was used to. Instead of the usual house-elf sent by his mother to wake him up there was a real person. A terrified person, a boy who looked ready to wet himself, but nonetheless a person.

Did Mother move me during the night? Draco wondered. His house was large and he knew there were many rooms kept behind locked doors that he had never seen before. And has she hired new help?

The boy stared at Draco expectantly, eyes wide.

"Where am I?" Draco growled at him.

For a moment there was something besides fear on his face, and that was confusion. But then he sputtered, "I-in your room, Your Highness."

"Highness?" Draco raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is this MotherÂ’s idea of a joke?"

The look he received was once more puzzled. "W-what do you mean, Majesty?"

Draco peeled back the covers and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He nearly yelped when he saw what he was wearing. A dress!

Well, okay, not exactly a dress. It was a nightgown, but it was one that women would wear. Not men.

"This isnÂ’t funny," Draco snapped at the boy, narrowing his eyes. "Mother could have at least put me in pajama pants. Send her up to me this instant."

The boy blinked. "But, Your Highness, y-your mother is ... she is not with us anymore."

Now it was DracoÂ’s turn to blink. "What?"

"S-she is dead, Majesty," he blurted, and looked utterly terrified at being so blunt.

Okay, this is ridiculous. "Then send my father up here," Draco said slowly with a tight smile, playing along. "And do it before I lose my patience."

"Yes, M-Majesty," the boy said, and nearly sprinted from the room.

Majesty? Your Highness? What is this about? Draco stood up and walked around the unfamiliar room. It was expensively furnished – but then, all the rooms in the Malfoy’s manor were. Narcissa Malfoy spared no expense when it came to her decorating.

The thing that was troubling Draco was that his mother wasnÂ’t the type who would move him during the middle of the night just for a joke. Narcissa was not a joker. She was beautiful and rich, but she didnÂ’t have any sense of humor whatsoever.

And Lucius ... well, now that Draco thought about it, it could’ve been his father who’d done this. He was the type who would waste his time moving his only son to a different room just to see his reaction. But it wouldn’t be such a fine room. Lucius thought that a child (even though Draco was eighteen, in his father’s mind he was still a child) should not grow up in finery. He believed strongly those who were raised in luxury and pampered were weak and would never amount to anything. So if he had actually done this, he would’ve sent Draco to the dungeons and waited for him to wake up there. He would not have hired some skinny boy to be there – he would have seen to it himself to be there and see how Draco would respond.

Draco considered leaving the room to put on some more manly clothes, but then decided to wait just a bit longer for his father to come. After that everything would be explained.

He sighed and sat on his bed, his eyes scanning the wall. They rested on a portrait of a very beautiful silver-haired woman. Draco stared at it curiously, wondering what was wrong with it. The painter had done an excellent job – the woman was radiant and her beauty had been captured perfectly. So why did it bother him?

Then it hit him. It was like a punch in the stomach.

The picture was not moving.

It was like a Muggle portrait – still and trapped forever in the same statement and same pose. Draco had always wondered how Muggles put up with their pictures – they were so boring.

So was this Muggle painting a part of the joke his father was playing on him? Was he going to come in and laugh at how stricken Draco was looking?

As if on cue, the door opened. Draco quickly erased all stunned expressions from his face and stood up, ready for an argument.

But his father did not come in. Instead, a little girl of about seven flounced in, wearing a nightgown not so different from DracoÂ’s.

She had his silver hair, except it was long and hung down her back. Her face was so familiar and it only took him an instant to recognize it. She looked like a cross between himself and the beautiful woman in the still painting.

"Draco," she said, smiling brightly at him. "Good morn! Are you excited?"

"Excited?" he repeated dully, staring at her.

"Yes, excited, silly," she said. She couldn’t keep still – she was bouncing on her heels in the doorway. "You’re going to see that beautiful princess again. I’m sure excited." She came into the room and began waltz around as if she were dancing with an invisible partner. "I’ve always wanted a sister," she added dreamily.

"Princess?" Draco said, not sure why he felt so dumb.

"Princess Ginny." The girl stopped dancing and stood before him, craning her neck to see his face. Her eyes were shaped much like his, with long black lashes, but her eye color was more of an ice blue than the steel gray he was using to seeing in the mirror. Draco could tell that she was going to be a very gorgeous woman when she grew up. "Oh, I know you donÂ’t like her much. But I think sheÂ’s wonderful."

"Princess Ginny?" What the hell is going on? Who is this girl and where is my father? "Where is my father?" he spoke out loud.

"You mean our father?" the girl asked, giving him a sly look. "HeÂ’s in the village, making the speech to the kingdom, remember? Everyone is looking forward to the wedding on Christmas! I think a sister is the best present you could give me, Draco."

She couldnÂ’t reach his face on her tiptoes, so she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, throwing her arms around his neck. He was not prepared for it and just barely managed to keep his balance, gripping her out of instinct to keep her from sliding down. Before he could drop her or ask her what the hell she was doing, she kissed him soundly on the cheek.

"You’re the best brother, Draco. You don’t like Ginny but your marrying her for me. So I can have someone to replace Mother." Draco opened his mouth to say something when she cut him off. "Oh, I know, I know, no one can take Mother’s place. You’ve told me a million times. But – well, you knew her and I didn’t. I think Princess Ginny will work just fine for a mother for me, don’t you?"

"You ... please tell me youÂ’re not talking about Ginny Weasley," Draco finally said when nothing else came to mind.

"Yes, Ginny Weasley," the girl clarified.

He was stunned – there was no other way to put it.

His father would not have gone as far as to find a girl who looked so much like him and have her pose as his sister. Not to mention there was no way he could have found someone whose features were like his, only more feminine and softer. This girl was very much related to him. And unless he had a sister he did not know about (which he knew he didn’t – he had heard Narcissa complain and complain about how painful it had been to give him birth and swear time after time that she would never have another kid to ruin her figure) then this was not the world he was used to.

Am I dreaming? But if he was dreaming, then why did the girl feel so warm and gentle against him, and why did he feel his heart softening towards her? If he was dreaming, why was he even wondering if he was? HeÂ’d had many realistic dreams before, but it had never occurred to him that he was dreaming.

And why was Ginny Weasley suddenly a princess?

"WhatÂ’s your name?" Draco asked the girl, setting her back on the ground.

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a smirk that very much reminded him of himself. "You know my name very well, Draco."

"Be a big girl and tell me anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "I stopped being a ‘big girl’ when I was five. Why are you acting so weird, Draco?"

"The way youÂ’re acting I would think that youÂ’ve forgotten your own name," he said, crossing his arms and waiting.

The girlÂ’s statement softened. "Fine. My name is Isabella Elizabeth Susanne Marie Malfoy. Are you happy now?"

"That’s what people call you?" Draco asked with a sneer. "Do they yell, ‘Oy! Isabella Elizabeth Susie ... whatever the rest is’?"

She pouted her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Everyone calls me Elle and you know it, Draco!"

"Of course. Now, when is ... our father returning home?"

"This isnÂ’t fair! YouÂ’re being a jerk, Draco!" she said stubbornly, and spun on her heels, her hair flying around her. She stomped towards the door.

"Just a minute ago I was the best brother in the world," he said, smirking after her.

She said, "Ooh!" and left the room without another glance at him.

When Draco caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, he saw that he was smiling. It had been a while since anyone had made him genuinely smile.

But now he had to think. He sat down on the bed, all amusement gone from his face. Where was he? He obviously was not at his house anymore. Hell, he wasnÂ’t even sure if he was in his time anymore.

And what was up with the Muggle painting? Did that mean he didnÂ’t have his wand?

A thorough search of the room proved that indeed he did not have his wand. But he hadnÂ’t expected it. Wherever he was, whenever he was, he was supposed to be Muggle.

The portrait of the woman on the wall was not Narcissa Malfoy, but it was supposed to be his mother. The womanÂ’s face was kinder, gentler, and her eyes smiled playfully from the picture.

This is supposed to be my family, he thought. That girl ... Elle ... and this woman. I wonder what my father looks like?

His thoughts turned from his family to what Elle had said: Princess Ginny. Ginny Weasley, the youngest of six, all boys. The only Weasley remaining at Hogwarts. The girl who worshipped the ground Harry Potter walked on.

He smirked. Well, at least she used to. Around his sixth year, and her fifth year, her crush on Harry had seemed to diminish. Draco had never really realized it until now – until he actually sat down and thought about her. He never thought about Ginny Weasley because he didn’t give a damn about her.

So what did she have to do with anything? Elle had said that Ginny was going to be her sister. Did that mean that perhaps Draco had another sibling, an older brother, who was marrying her?

But then he remembered what else Elle had said – "You’re marrying Ginny for me."

He suddenly felt the urge to throw up. Oh, God, he was marrying Ginny Weasley. And if she was a princess, considering that princesses only married princes, that would make him a one. A prince, that is.

This is not a joke, he thought. He clutched his stomach in attempt to make it stop rumbling and giving him the sensation he was going to vomit. This is real. I have a different family, IÂ’m a prince, and IÂ’m going to marry Ginny Weasley.

He didn’t feel sick because of her, exactly. She was no doubt a very pretty girl, had probably been the prettiest girl in the school when he’d gone there. But the thought of marrying a Weasley – the family who hated him, whom he hated as well – was horrifying. Not to mention he did not want to get married.

The straw-haired boy returned then. Draco nearly laughed. He seemed so terrified to be in his presence it was amusing.

"M-Majesty, y-your father could not come home," he said, hanging back in the doorway. "H-he is nearly done with his speech, and – and says that if you would care to join him in the village –"

"Then quite stuttering and dress me," Draco ordered. Hey, he had the power, why shouldnÂ’t he use it? He wasnÂ’t going to feel guilty for being mean to someone who was obviously paid to do whatever he was ordered.

The boy nodded and went to the wardrobe. Draco did not like being dressed – it was very uncomfortable to have someone touching him, especially someone of the same sex. But he allowed it to be done, since he had no idea how to put on the clothes himself. They were too complicated and knew he would be lost if not for the boy.

"Tell me your name," Draco ordered.

The boy, who was kneeling down before him and tying his bootlaces, looked up, startled. "Beg your pardon, Majesty?"

"Your name," he repeated.

"Tim-Timothy," he said, staring up at him with wide brown eyes.

"What, have I never said your name before?" Draco asked, sneering.

"N-no, Your Highness, you always call me ..." he trailed off, his eyes back on the bootlaces.

"What do I call you?"

"You know, Majesty."

"Tell me!"

Timothy jumped at the shout, and without looking up replied in a trembling voice, "Y-you call me many things, Your Highness. Idiot, fool, ass ... and those are the polite ones."

Draco was a bit surprised. He was never polite with servants or house-elves, but he never used names like that. He tried to call them by their correct names. "Well," he said, trying to make his voice as cool as possible, "from now on youÂ’re just Timothy."

Timothy raised his eyes again. "R-really, Majesty?"

"Unless you prefer the other names," he barked, and Timothy jumped once more. He finished tying the laces and stood up, only coming to DracoÂ’s shoulders.

"N-no, Your Highness, I do not. Timothy is fine."

Draco allowed his smirk to warm. "Good. Now, IÂ’m starving. WhereÂ’s my breakfast?"

"If you want it," Timothy said softly, "I could bring it to you up here. B-but you could also go down and eat with Mistress Isabella."

Draco thought for a moment. He wanted to speak more with Elle and see what other information he could milk from her. But deep down, the little girl had charmed him. He was beginning to like her. And he never liked people he barely knew.

Draco had grown up an only child, and had secretly envied all those who had siblings. He didnÂ’t know what brother-sister ties were like, but he was sure it had to be similar to what he was experiencing with Elle.

"I would like to eat downstairs," he finally said.

Timothy nodded and allowed a small smile.

The castle reminded Draco of his house – cold gray stone walls, torches giving off the only light for the heavy curtains were drawn tight over the windows. The corridors were drafty, and from the weight of Draco’s clothes he figured it had to be winter.

Also, Elle had mentioned Christmas. It had to be November or December.

"How many days till Christmas, Timothy?" Draco asked, remembering that Elle had said the wedding would be on Christmas.

"Twenty days in counting, Majesty," Timothy replied awkwardly.

Twenty days! That meant it was December 5th. He was getting married in three weeks!

IÂ’ve got to get out of this world, he thought. If only I knew how the hell I got here! Then maybe IÂ’d know where to start in getting back. I have a hunch IÂ’d need my wand to get out, anyway. I wish I had learned how to Apparate!

Elle was already eating at a monstrous table all by herself. She visibly brightened when Draco came in and took a seat across from her. She was wearing a cute red dress that made her hair look like a halo of silver.

"I am mad at you, Draco," Elle announced as Draco started to serve himself the only thing he recognized on the table – porridge.

Draco smirked without looking at her. "Why, because I was a jerk?"

"Yes."

"Get used to it, Elle. IÂ’m always a jerk."

"Draco! Mother may have died when I was born, but I know she did not raise you to speak such things about yourself," Elle snapped.

Draco snorted. "Speak such things about myself? I didnÂ’t say anything bad, Elle. I was telling you the truth. Anyone you ask can tell you that IÂ’m the biggest jerk theyÂ’ve ever met. Try, for instance, your Princess Ginny."

"But thatÂ’s different," Elle insisted, her food forgotten. "You both hate each other."

ThatÂ’s a relief, he thought. IÂ’m not sure what IÂ’d do if Ginny liked me.

Then he suddenly wondered if she was the same, too. So far only her name was the same – that didn’t mean she was the Ginny Weasley, did it? His name was Draco Malfoy but from what he gathered from Timothy and Elle the Draco Malfoy they knew did not have his personality. Ginny could look like herself but not be herself ... as if that made any sense.

"Not everyone hates you," Elle went on. "In fact, our kingdom is looking forward to having you rule."

"What kingdom is that?"

"Wales, you idiot."

"And what kingdom is Ginny Weasley princess of?"

"England. Goodness, Draco, did you hit your head while you were slumbering?"

ThatÂ’s not fair. How come Ginny gets to be princess of England and I get stuck with Wales? But then he realized something. "When we marry Wales and England will be one kingdom, will it not?"

"Wow, Draco, did you figure that out all on your own?"

Draco stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed. That was something someone from his own time definitely wouldÂ’ve said. Then again, he wasnÂ’t totally sure he was in a different time.

"You were right, Elle, when you said I hit my head during my sleep," Draco told her. "IÂ’ve forgotten what year it is. Care to enlighten me?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "1607, you great numbskull," she said.

Draco lost the grip on his fork and it clattered noisily on to the plate. "ThatÂ’s almost four hundred years ago!"

"What?" Elle eyed him curiously.

"I mean ..." Draco felt a little stupid, and he rarely ever felt stupid. "Ignore what I said. My doctor tells me symptoms of bumped heads includes shouting out random things."

"Doctor? Good Lord, Draco, you are acting weird today."

"There are such things as doctors, arenÂ’t there?"

"Of course! But we donÂ’t see a doctor! When we are ill we always see Albus."

Draco raised an eyebrow, and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Albus ... Dumbledore?" he guessed, knowing he was right.

"You know who he is!" Elle accused, huffing furiously. "He is the greatest healer Wales has seen in centuries. Lord knows how old he is. IÂ’ve heard that heÂ’s nearly two hundred and heÂ’s still kept himself alive!"

"HeÂ’s not that old," Draco said, returning to his food. Once again, just because the name was the same didnÂ’t mean he was the Albus Dumbledore.

The door to the dinning room banged open, diverting his attention. A tall man walked into the room, his fine gold outfit wet. Snowflakes still clung to his gray-streaked brown hair as he took his seat at the head of the table wordlessly.

So this was his father, the King of Wales. Draco could see the familiarity of his mouth, the corners either drooped in a frown or up in a smirk, and saw that heÂ’d inherited the cold gray eyes. But heÂ’d obviously gotten his silver hair from his mother.

"Is it snowing, Father?" Elle asked innocently.

Their father finished drinking from a mug and wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. "Of course it is. It rains every damn day, and since today itÂ’s cold enough itÂ’s snowing."

Draco caught a look of hurt on ElleÂ’s face as she stared down at her plate.

"When are we leaving for the Weasleys, Father?"

This time, they both stared at him. Draco had a feeling heÂ’d said something wrong.

"The Weasleys?" his father finally said. "Since when do you call them the Weasleys?"

Since I met Ron Weasley on the Hogwarts Express first year. "I dunno – what d’you call them?"

"The royal family of England," Elle said as if it were the most obvious thing. Then she turned to her father and said, "Draco hit his head during the night. I think heÂ’s a little confused."

Their father grunted but did not reply.

"So when do we leave for the royal family of England?" Draco drawled, staring pointedly at his younger sister.

"As soon as IÂ’m finished eating," the king replied gruffly.

It was snowing. Ginny could look over her "motherÂ’s" shoulder and out the window to see the flakes falling.

Normally, she loved to go out and play in the snow. But the dress she was wearing would never allow her to run and roll around the way she wanted to, so she dismissed the idea. Plus, she had to talk to Harry after breakfast.

Ginny managed to eat most of the food and excused herself quietly. Her parents didnÂ’t even seem to notice.

Maybe that was a good thing so they didnÂ’t see her go into the kitchen. A blast of hot air greeted her as she stepped inside, as if she wasnÂ’t already warm enough under all the clothing she wore.

Many servants hustled around the large room, carrying trays and pots to the sink or to the old-fashioned fire stove. A few paused to give her a curious look.

Soon, everything had quieted except for the bubbling of boiling water. Everyone stared at her, waiting.

Ginny felt her cheeks flush. "I – I would like to speak with Harry Potter ... please," she said, feeling idiotic.

Harry stepped forward – but then, no, it wasn’t Harry. It was someone who had the same build as him, the same messy hair as him, but no glasses and dark brown eyes. Also, on closer inspection, she saw his black hair was dotted with gray.

Could this be ... GinnyÂ’s breath caught in her throat. Is this James Potter?

"What do you want with Harry?" he demanded.

"I – I would just like to speak with him," she said, practically wilting under his strong gaze. "Are – are you his father?"

He nodded shortly. "YouÂ’ve never showed an interest in my son before."

If only you knew! "No, I guess I havenÂ’t. Is he here?"

"His kitchen shift is over," a woman spoke up.

Ginny swallowed. "Would you be so kind as to tell me where he is now?"

"Better do it, James," another older man said. "Or sheÂ’ll tell her parents."

James glared at Ginny with such anger she almost wanted to cry. What had she done that caused him to look at her in such a way?

"HeÂ’ll be in the washing room," James finally replied.

"Where is that?" GinnyÂ’s blush deepened.

"Good lord, the girl is so spoiled she doesnÂ’t even know where the washing room is!" one woman cackled.

Ginny got the vibe that she was not very liked among the servants.

James gave her quick directions. Ginny thanked him as warmly as she could, but as she stepped by him to get take the servantsÂ’ way from the kitchen to the washing room, he grabbed her arm hard.

She gasped, and looked up to meet his furious dark eyes. "If you do anything to my son," he hissed, "I will wring your neck with my bare hands."

Ginny was stunned for a moment, but finally found her voice as he dropped her arm. "Mr. Potter, I have no intentions of hurting Harry," she whispered.

He ignored her.

Heart pounding, she slipped by him and hurried as fast as her dress would allow from the kitchen.

As soon as she was a good distance away, she pressed her back against the wall and put a hand over her chest, breathing hard. Obviously something had happened that made James Potter so mean to her. She realized she hadnÂ’t seen Lily there, but that didnÂ’t mean anything, did it? Not all the servants were in the kitchens, anyway.

Just find Harry, Ginny ordered herself. Maybe he can tell you why.

Ginny fortunately found the washing room with no problems. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear the chatter and quiet laughter of those inside. Carefully, Ginny pushed the door opened and put one foot inside. She expected everyone to stop their work and stare at her like the kitchen workerÂ’s had. But to her immense relief, no one even glanced at her.

She stepped in further, standing rather awkwardly in front of the doorway. Biting her lower lip gingerly, she looked around for the familiar disheveled black hair of Harry.

Mostly women were washing the clothes, standing around large wooden basins and hand washing the garments. Steam rose from the warm water in the basins, and the room was hot – nearly as stifling hot as the kitchens. Ginny felt dampness on her forehead and began to wish she hadn’t allowed Maria to put so many heavy clothes on her.

Finally, her eyes rested on Harry, who was carrying an armload of linens to one of the basins. He hadnÂ’t noticed her, considering he was across the room. He was smiling at the women who were washing the clothes he dumped into the water, and then turned around to get more from the basket on the floor by the wall nearby.

Ginny lifted her long skirts, as to not get the hem wet from the water on the floor, and crossed over to where he was. He was just dropping another armful of cloth into the washing basin before he was able to see her. His eyes widened at her presence, but he did not say anything. He turned back to the basket to get the remaining clothes.

One of the three middle-aged women, who had all been chatting up until then, turned to Ginny. "Is there anything you require, Your Majesty?"

Ginny didnÂ’t note as much hostility in this womenÂ’s voice as the servants from the kitchen, but perhaps the lady was just hiding it well. "I would like to speak with Harry for a moment, if you can spare him."

Harry dropped the last of the load into the basin. He replied without even looking up at her. "I am busy, Majesty," he replied in a calm, uninterested tone. "Perhaps later."

GinnyÂ’s jaw dropped open, but she quickly caught herself and snapped it shut. All hope that perhaps Harry would recognize her, that maybe he really was from her time, flew out the window. But she still really needed to talk to him, to see what he was like. If there was a reason why he was so cold to her.

Well, she was the princess, wasn’t she? She could order them around, but it would only make the servants dislike her worst. Yet that was what they were paid for – serving the royal family – wasn’t it?

"Now, please," she said as politely as she could manage.

He lifted his eyes to her, and she saw impatience in the green depths. But he nodded once, letting out a small sigh.

Ginny forced a weak smile at the women. "I will return him in a moment," she promised, and turned to leave, Harry right behind her.

Once outside the washing room, Ginny shut the door firmly behind them. When she turned to Harry, she could not read his statement, but she saw visible anger, and perhaps even loathing, in his eyes.

Ginny had never seen Harry look at anyone in such a way. But to be seeing him stare at her like that made her heart crack into a million little pieces. Oh, God, what was she going to say to him? Her speech she had quickly prepared instantly melted away, and she found herself feeling very unintelligent, standing there with nothing to say.

Harry waited for about a full minute before he said, "If itÂ’s not that important, maybe you can come back when IÂ’m not so busy?"

He turned to go back into the washing room.

"No!" Ginny cried, grabbing his arm before she could stop herself. "Don’t go yet –"

Harry recoiled at her touch, jumping nearly three feet back. She gasped, and their eyes met once more. His were narrowed, but there was embarrassment mixed in with the hatred from before.

"I’m sorry," she whispered thickly, her hand fluttering up to touch the emerald necklace around her neck. "I did not mean –"

"If you will forgive me, Majesty," he said quietly, his eyes now on the floor, "I have much work to complete before the Royal MalfoysÂ’ arrival. I would very much like to get it finished on time."

"Aren’t you wondering how I knew your name?" Ginny blurted, hoping to get him interested. He couldn’t leave yet – there were so many things she needed to ask him. Even if he wasn’t the Harry she knew, he was still a familiar face, and even that comforted her more than anything else.

He was silent for a moment, still staring at the ground. "No," he finally replied, "I have a good idea how you knew my name."

GinnyÂ’s jaw dropped open. "How?" she said, barely above a whisper.

And then his eyes were meeting hers again, and they were blazing emerald fire. "I must be returning to my work," he said frostily. "If youÂ’ll excuse me, Your Highness."

With one final nod, he swept past her and returned to the washing room. Ginny didnÂ’t try to stop him this time.

Her throat closed up, and she felt a sense of dread. What had happened to Harry? He didn’t have the scar and his father (and as far as she knew, his mother) was alive – so why did he act ten times as hateful as he had been when Voldemort had been after him?

But then she realized something. He had been perfectly nice with the women in the washing room. It was her with whom he was angry with. Something she had done had made him hate her specifically.

She couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d done. It couldn’t be just because she was a princess and he had to devote his life to her and her family. It was something far greater, and far more emotional – she could tell by the deep sadness in his eyes.

"Majesty?"

Ginny jumped slightly as a hand touched her arm. She turned and looked down to see Maria, who was nearly a foot shorter than she was.

"Majesty, here are your gloves," Maria said, handing her the long white gloves. "You left them on the table from breakfast."

"Thank you," Ginny whispered, taking them.

"WhatÂ’s wrong?" Maria asked with concern, noticing GinnyÂ’s distress.

Ginny turned to her. "Maria, is Lily Potter still alive?"

Maria blinked as if she had not been expecting the question. "My dear," she said quietly, "you know the answer to that."

"Just say it," Ginny urged. "I need to hear it."

Maria sighed loudly. "No," she said quickly and sharply. "No, Lily Potter has been dead for a year. And you know it."

That explains everything, Ginny thought, then realized something. Oh ... no, wait, it doesnÂ’t. Just because HarryÂ’s mother is dead doesnÂ’t mean he should hate me. Unless ...

Ginny tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat. "Tell me," she began throatily, gripping MariaÂ’s upper arms firmly, "tell me that I did not kill her."

Maria’s eyes widened and she straightened with a huff. "Majesty, why are you saying such things! You know Lily Potter is dead and you know that you did not kill her. End of discussion – Prince Draco and his family will be arriving in a few hours. Come, you look deathly pale, I’ll see if I can add some more pink to your cheeks."

Ginny dropped her arms to her side, shoulders slumping with defeat. If she didnÂ’t kill Lily, then why was Harry showing such disgust towards her? Nothing seemed to fit.

If IÂ’m going to be in this world for a bit longer, Ginny thought, following Maria down the hall, then IÂ’ll need to find some answers about this. I need to know why Harry hates me so much.

* * *

Draco was cold and annoyed.

The stagecoach they had ridden in was drafty and barely any warmer then the snowy air outside. It had been a bumpy ride, and one time the wheels had sunk so deeply into the snow theyÂ’d had to stop for about an hour.

Draco couldnÂ’t feel his fingers, toes, or nose any longer. Beside him, ElleÂ’s lips were turning oddly blue. Draco glanced at her, then turned his eyes to their father, who sat across from them.

"CanÂ’t you put a heater in here?" he demanded, wrapping his cloak around him tighter.

"Heater?" the king repeated.

Draco smirked and stared out the window. "Is there any way to keep the inside maybe, oh, I donÂ’t know ... above freezing?"

"Draco," Elle whispered warningly.

His smirk widened and he looked across to his father once more. The older man was glaring heatedly at him. If looks could kill, Draco would be on fire ... which doesnÂ’t sound like such a bad idea at the moment, he thought dryly, looking back out the window.

But finally, the horses had come to a stop. Draco got out of the coach into the air that was not so much cooler than what he had just been in, staring up at the castle where Ginny Weasley was supposed to live.

It looked like something off a postcard – a gray castle with many towers and lots of snow on the roof. It somehow gave off the vibe that the inside was warm and cozy, and there was a huge wreath on the two front doors.

Elle crunched through the ankle-deep snow to reach DracoÂ’s side. He glanced down at her, and saw her pale blue eyes staring up with wonder at the castle, her mouth stretched into a happy smile. Then she ran the rest of the way to the doors.

"Isabella," their father said. "Come back here and walk with us."

She ignored him and pounded on one door with the side of her fist. Draco hid a smile as he walked up the stairs behind her, flanked by nearly a dozen knights. Draco suddenly had the image of their armor freezing solid and theyÂ’d topple over when they tried to move. It amused him greatly, and he had an even harder time keeping his smile from being seen.

After about another minute, the doors finally opened by someone who reminded Draco of his butler at home. The tall, skinny man dressed in black bowed at them, then gestured for them to walk in.

Gratefully, Draco stepped into the warm front foyer, which was huge. He didn’t bother to inspect it at all – he honestly didn’t care about decoration.

He was too busy trying to spot Ginny. He hadnÂ’t seen her in quite a few months, not since heÂ’d graduated from Hogwarts. It wasnÂ’t that he was looking forward to seeing her, but he just wanted to see what his future wife looked like now.

Of course, I plan to be back in my regular time before we get married, he assured himself.

"Their Royal Highnesses are waiting for you," the butler said, waving an arm dramatically. "Follow me, please."

They walked for another whole minute through corridor after corridor. CouldnÂ’t they wait for us somewhere closer to the front door? Draco asked, long since giving up on trying to remember the way theyÂ’d come.

At last, they stopped before a tall door. The butler pushed it open for them and stood aside.

Draco’s heart was pounding in anticipation. He was sure they were deliberately trying to keep him from seeing Ginny – first, the king had to go through. Then, about half the armed escorts followed. Elle bounced ahead in, and the rest of the knights went in after that. Lastly, it was Draco’s turn.

His eyes quickly scanned the room. It was large, obviously a sitting room, with two antique red velvet couches facing on another, flanked by armchairs, on a thick expensive rug. The walls were painted gold, and a miniature chandelier hung from the ceiling, the candles the only source of light for the whole room besides the huge fire roaring in the fireplace.

Draco barely paid attention to the people who were supposed to be the King and Queen of England – his gaze went straight to Ginny. She was sitting so straight on the couch she was nearly on the edge, her back a good distance away from backside of it. She was wearing a long green dress that had a wide skirt and tight bodice. Her chest was bigger than he remembered, and her waist was smaller – but then, that could just be because of what she was wearing.

He could tell she was more nervous about seeing him than he was she. Her wide dark brown eyes stared at him, quickly running over his whole body before coming back up to his face. She looked paler than usual, but her skin was just as perfect as he remembered. Her thick mass of Weasley red hair was piled on her head, a few strands hanging loose around her face. Draco found himself noticing that unlike her brothers, her hair was wavy.

The entire time Draco and Ginny had been inspecting each other, GinnyÂ’s parents had been exchanging hellos with DracoÂ’s father and sister. But now all eyes were back on him, as if waiting for him to say something.

Draco smirked, flashing his eyes at Ginny. He still wasnÂ’t sure if she was the Weasley he knew ... Elle had said they despised each other, which meant that she could be dreading seeing him for that reason.

Elle nudged Draco with her elbow. "Say hello," she hissed from the corner of her mouth.

"Hello," Draco said obediently, walking over to the sofa the king and queen sat on. The woman smiled pleasantly at him, offering him her hand. He took it and kissed it quickly, then shook the manÂ’s hand firmly.

Reluctantly, he turned to Ginny, who sat on the opposite couch. She looked slightly alarmed.

"Hold out your hand for Draco, Ginny," the woman snapped. "Must I always remind you of your manners?"

Ginny swallowed, but stuck out her gloved hand. Draco knelt on one knee before her, still sneering, trying to see if she was from his time by her reaction. He took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, never taking his eyes from hers. Once more she swallowed nervously, and jerked her arm back quickly before he had a chance to release it.

"Draco, take Ginny and Isabella for a walk," his father commanded absently. "IÂ’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do on the past month."

Draco smirked even wider as he got to his feet, offering his arm to Ginny. She stared at it like it was a snake, before standing up as well and taking it gingerly.

The instant they were out of the room, Ginny dropped his arm. She didnÂ’t say anything, but stared at the floor as they walked.

Elle walked backwards so she could face them. "How have you been this past month, Ginny?" she asked pleasantly, sounding much older than her seven years.

Ginny, startled, looked up and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Then she glanced at Draco, as if comparing them. "Oh ... sheÂ’s your sister ..."

And in that instant, Draco knew. She was from his time. She wasn’t a princess – she was just as clueless about this as he was. He felt somewhat relieved, knowing that he wasn’t in this deal alone. But couldn’t he have been someone else ... anyone besides Ginny Weasley? Even Harry Potter would be more of a relief, because there was no chance he’d be marrying him.

"Elle," Draco informed her, twisting his lips upward into a sneer. "Her name is Elle."

"I knew that," Ginny snapped. "I just saw her last month." But her last sentence wavered a bit, as if she was unsure of herself.

Draco turned to his little sister, who was staring at both of them oddly. "Elle, would you mind running back and giving us a moment alone?"

Elle smiled slyly. "Of course, Draco," she said, running by them and sprinting down the corridor. They both watched as she rounded the corner, out of sight.

He turned back to Ginny, who now looked a lot more nervous now that she was alone with him. She still wasnÂ’t sure if he recognized her yet.

Great, what am I supposed to say? he wondered, frowning.

Ginny cleared her throat awkwardly, and began to pick at her nails. Her insecurity with him was almost amusing.

"Well," she said finally, "are we just going to stand here all day?"

Draco managed to find something clever to say. "I thought you wanted to, since youÂ’ve never seen such splendor in your life, Weasley."

Her dark eyes widened as she stared at him. Then they narrowed, and she crossed her arms under her breasts. "Perfect," she said sarcastically. "Out of all the people in this world you have to be the one who is still the same."

"IÂ’m just as thrilled to see you, Weasley," he drawled.

There was another stretch of silence as they both stared at each other.

"You look ... well," Ginny said, wincing as if she had just committed a sin by complimenting him.

"You donÂ’t," he lied, shrugging. "What are we supposed to do now?"

She sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. "We should probably figure out how to get back to our time. In the next twenty days, preferably."

He grinned. "What, Weasley, you donÂ’t want to marry me?"

She looked horrified and dropped her arms to her side. "And you want to marry me?" she said shrilly.

"Excellent point. So how do you plan to get back?"

"I have no idea," she said, and then brightened. "DÂ’you have your wand?"

He snorted. "If I did then I wouldnÂ’t be here, would I?"

Her face fell. "Great," she said. "So weÂ’re both stuck here and weÂ’re Muggles."

"I must say this is an improvement for you," Draco said smoothly. "I’m sure you just about fainted when you woke up in this castle, right? I mean, I’m sure that if you sold this curtain" – he stepped to the window and put a hand against the heavy maroon curtains – "it would feed your family for a year."

She glared at him. "But IÂ’m sure this was a change for you, too," she hissed. "Actually having someone who likes you? Too bad your little sister doesnÂ’t know you the way I do."

"You donÂ’t know me," he snapped, yanking his hand from the curtain. She had struck a nerve. "Besides, I donÂ’t see any of your git brothers running around, do you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"YouÂ’re upset because I actually have a sibling and you donÂ’t," he explained briefly.

She crossed her arms again, rolling her eyes. "Wow, you read me like an open book, Malfoy," she said. "I’m jealous of a bigheaded bugger like you –"

"I never said you were jealous," he replied coolly. "Now, if we can move on and stop bickering like children ..."

"Since when have you been concerned about acting like a child?" she demanded, not ready to stop yet. "I lost count of how many times you and my brother fought at Hogwarts –"

Once again, she was interrupted, this time by someone clearing their throat from behind her. Ginny spun around and saw Harry standing at the end of the hall, his hands behind his back.

"Potter?" Draco cried out in disbelief. "PotterÂ’s here?" He shot a glance at Ginny, and she could just see the amusement swimming in his gray eyes.

"Majesties, please excuse the interruption," he said, not looking at them but over their heads. "But your parents have requested your presence in the dining hall."

Draco tore his gaze from him back to Ginny. "HeÂ’s a servant?" he whispered.

Ginny nodded helplessly, and made a grab for his arm as he started towards Harry. But she managed to only grab a little of his cape and the rest slipped through her fingers.

Draco walked up to Harry, who would not look at him. His statement was unreadable as Draco peered closely at his smooth forehead.

"What, no scar, Potter?" he snarled, sneering. "I guess you arenÂ’t the great and powerful savior here, are you?"

"Malfoy, stop," Ginny ordered. "He doesnÂ’t know what youÂ’re talking about."

Draco turned to face her, one eyebrow arched. "How come weÂ’re the only ones here who know that weÂ’re in the wrong time?"

"Shh!" she snapped. "DonÂ’t mention anything."

Draco put his attention back on Harry, his sneer returning. "He wonÂ’t tell anyone," he said confidently. "HeÂ’s just a servant."

HarryÂ’s mouth tightened, but other than that he did not change his statement.

"Quit it," Ginny said in his defense.

"If there is no scar," Draco mused quietly, circling Harry, "then I wonder ... does that mean your parents are alive?"

And suddenly there was a flash of movement. Ginny let out a shriek, and in an instant Harry had Draco pinned against the wall, and was giving him a look ten times worse than the ones he had given her. Draco looked slightly surprised, but otherwise unruffled. He continued to sneer, making no attempt to free himself.

Ginny hurried over to them. She hesitated before trying to pull Harry off Draco, because of the way he had reacted to her touch earlier. And also because Draco deserved the position he was in.

"Harry, let him go," she said softly.

His face, screwed up in anger, slowly relaxed, yet his eyes still blazed fire. He slowly released his grip on the front of DracoÂ’s clothes and took a step back. Then, he broke his gaze from the other boyÂ’s and turned, taking long strides down the corridor.

"The king will be sure to hear about this," Draco called after him. Harry did not make any signs that he had heard him; he just turned the corner without a word.

Ginny fixed a fierce look on Draco, putting her hands on her hips. "Malfoy, that was terrible. I canÂ’t believe you did that."

He sniggered. "HeÂ’s a servant, Weasley ... you expect me to let that by?"

"Oh yes, I forgot," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only joy you get in your life is picking on Harry Potter, isnÂ’t it?"

"And your family," he added smugly.

Her hand itched to slap him, but she just balled both of them into fists at her side. Then she turned, her skirt flaring, and stalked in the direction Harry had left.

"I assume you know how to get to the dinning room," Draco said, hastening after her.

"Yes, but weÂ’re not going there."

"Where are we going?"

"The dungeons."

It took a whole ten seconds before Draco realized she was joking. She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw the somewhat shocked look on his face, bursting into laughter. He scowled, feeling like an idiot.

"God knows you deserve the dungeon," Ginny finished after she managed to sober. "What you did to Harry was ..."

"So his parents are dead in this world, too?" Draco cut in. "How did they die if there is no Dark Lord?"

She was silent a moment. "We donÂ’t know if there is or isnÂ’t a Dark Lord," she said. "For all we know heÂ’s still in power here."

During Harry’s seventh year he’d managed to defeat Voldemort – for good. The wizarding world was back to normal with little fear of anything anymore.

"What IÂ’m saying is, how did his parents die?" Draco snapped irritably.

"His father is alive," Ginny answered. "His motherÂ’s dead."

"Oh, poor Potter," Draco remarked.

Ginny pressed her lips into a thin line but didnÂ’t say anything.

She then concentrated on finding her way to the dinning room. She really wasnÂ’t one hundred percent sure where it was. Fearing that she would get lost, it was a great relief when they came to the familiar doors of their destination.

GinnyÂ’s parents, DracoÂ’s father, and Elle were all seated, waiting for them. They looked up when they both entered. Ginny wasnÂ’t sure of where to sit, but Draco strode right in and took a seat by his sister.

Ginny awkwardly stepped in and sat beside her mother, across from Elle. Her father sat at the head of the incredibly long table, like he had at breakfast, and DracoÂ’s father was on his right.

It was then Ginny realized she didnÂ’t even know her own parents names, much less her to-be father-in-law. She hoped the occasion would never arise for her to call on them by name and busied herself into putting food on her plate.

The two older men were discussing the latest discoveries in the Americas while everyone else ate in silence. Ginny felt the urge to speak in many places, but every time she opened her mouth, Draco shot her a warning glance from across the table. Her instinct told her to just ignore him and say what she wanted anyway, but then she realized it wasnÂ’t polite for women to speak out. Frustrated, she jammed food into her mouth to keep her from saying anything.

The conversation turned to the wedding coming up on Christmas, and Ginny tuned out. She really did not want to hear anything about it ... besides, if all went well, then she would hopefully be out of this world by then. She was actually half-expecting to wake up back in Hogwarts the next morning. That thought comforted her, for without it she would surely scream her head off. She couldnÂ’t let the thought of being engaged to Draco Malfoy sink in ... this all had to be some weird warped thing that only lasted a day.

Right? she thought uncertainly.

" ... what you were thinking, wasnÂ’t it, Ginny?"

Ginny nearly choked on a piece of meat she was trying to swallow. She coughed loudly and spit the half-chewed food back on to her plate. When she looked up, everyone, even the maid in the process of bringing the food in, was frozen and staring at her.

"Where are your manners?" her mother hissed, sending a smile across the table to DracoÂ’s father. "You must excuse her ... she has been acting odd all day ..."

Draco snorted, but only Ginny noticed. She shot him a death glance and covered the meat with mashed potatoes.

"Excuse me," she said quietly.

DracoÂ’s father gave her an odd look, but said, "Of course. Now, back on the wedding. Robert, the castle back in Wales is nearly finished. Why on earth would you want to build another one here?"

My fatherÂ’s name is Robert, she thought, making a mental note to remember that.

GinnyÂ’s mother spoke up, her voice quiet and persuading. "Ginny informed me the other day that she would be more comfortable living in England, closer to us, just in case an emergency arises ... thatÂ’s what I was just trying to say a minute ago."

DracoÂ’s father turned to Ginny. "Does it really matter where you live?" he demanded harshly. "WeÂ’ll lose a lot of money if we have built that damn castle for nothing ..."

"Why donÂ’t you ask Draco, Edward?" Robert suggested.

"Why does it matter to me?" Draco drawled.

"Because," Edward, his father, snapped wrathfully, "itÂ’s where youÂ’ll live, too."

Then Ginny knew what they were talking about – the castle where she and Draco were to live when they got married. She felt a slight chill and shivered at the thought of living along with him.

"I donÂ’t care," Draco said, sounding bored. "Whatever you think is best, Father." The exaggeration on father was very subtle, but Ginny could hear it. When she caught his eyes once again, she was surprised to see the amusement in them.

"I still think building here will be best ..." Robert started, and once again Ginny blocked their voices out.

She barely ate any of her lunch because her stomach was twisting and turning in an almost painful way. She mostly moved it around on her plate, and when she glanced over at Draco, she saw he was doing something similar.

" ... and how wonderful grandchildren would be. Ginny and I have discussed this, havenÂ’t we?" GinnyÂ’s mother was saying.

She perked up at the sound of her name. "Huh?" she said stupidly. "Grandchildren?"

Her mother flashed her an annoyed look, evidently once again wondering where GinnyÂ’s manners were.

"Of course youÂ’ll need to produce an heir," Robert said, laughing in a way that clearly indicated it shouldÂ’ve been the most obvious thing. "And I must say I would like to see a grandson before I go."

Ginny felt sick and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She glanced across at Draco, who was frowning, also looking slightly alarmed.

Marrying us isnÂ’t enough, she thought, but now they want us to have kids?

"All in good time, of course," Edward stated. "Now, about those damn barbarians in Scotland ..."

Ginny let out a breath, thankful for the change of subject. She closed her eyes briefly. Please, she prayed, please let me wake up back in Hogwarts tomorrow. I canÂ’t marry Malfoy ... I canÂ’t have kids with him ... IÂ’m only seventeen, I want to marry when IÂ’m in love ...

When she opened her eyes, she found Draco staring at her with an unreadable look on his face. Then he grinned maliciously at her, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

And I will never be in love with Draco Malfoy.