All You Need Is Love

Chapter Nine

Knight in Shinning Armor

The first thing Draco noticed about the carriage was that it wasnÂ’t moving, sitting in the middle of the snow-covered road.

The second thing was that it didnÂ’t have any horses.

He pulled on JackÂ’s reins to bring him to a stop, and lowered himself down onto the saddle, his leg muscles relieved of the strain. For a minute, he sat frowning at the carriage, wondering why everyone seemed to have abandoned it.

The third thing he noticed were the bodies laying in red snow.

His frown vanished and his eyes widened. He gripped a handful of JackÂ’s mane and slid off his back to the ground. Draco realized his heart was pounding, and he knew it was because of the possibility that Ginny might be one of those bodies.

First, he glanced into the carriage, finding it empty, which wasnÂ’t much of a surprise. Then he circled around and inspected each person lying on the ground, letting out his breath when he saw none of them had bright red hair. In fact, the only person that wasnÂ’t clad in armor was the man that Draco suspected was the driver, who was near the seat on the outside front of the cab.

So where were Ginny and that man who had gone with her?

“Your Highness!”

Draco spun around, startled, and scanned the area the voice had come from. To his shock, his eyes rested on Harry, who was tied to a tree. Slowly, his astonishment melted into amusement, and he slowly walked over to him.

“Potter?” he drawled, crossing his arms and sneering. “How the hell did you tie yourself to a tree?”

The rope had been wound around him so many times it covered from his shoulders down to his wrists. At Draco’s remark, he looked a bit angry, but said with some composure, “I did not tie myself here. I was tied here by someone else.”

“Where’s Ginny? Is she tied to another tree somewhere else?”

“This is not a joking situation, Highness,” Harry scolded, frowning furiously. “We were attacked by gypsies.”

Draco stared blankly a minute before saying with narrowed eyes, “I’m not quite getting you.”

Harry gawked, his expression exasperated and clearly hinting that he thought Draco was some sort of incompetent fool for not understanding. “Gypsies, Highness!” he emphasized. “They attacked the carriage, killed the knights, and stole the horses.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and let out a loud breath through his lips. “So is Ginny tied to another tree or isn’t she?” he asked.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, and muttered something under his breath, trying to keep his patience. “They took her, Highness,” he said gradually, opening his eyelids and fixing his gaze on Draco.

“The gypsies?”

“No, the horses,” he snapped, looking irritated. Then he continued, “Yes, the gypsies, Highness!”

For a second, Draco wasn’t sure whether to grin or become annoyed. Harry’s tone and sarcastic retort was something that he would actually say in his own time. After a slight pause, he decided on neither expression, and instead demanded, “Why didn’t you stop them?”

Harry glared at him from underneath his brows, a look that plainly said, You’re an absolute idiot, Draco Malfoy. “Forgive me, Highness,” he said coldly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Next time I shall be sure to fight them all with my eyes closed.”

Draco sneered. “Well, did you even try?”

“Of course I tried,” Harry said sharply. “I did not want the princess kidnapped. Now that she is, though, the king will most likely send me to work in the fields on the farms outside the city for letting gypsies get her under my watch.”

“Right. Well, Potter, I could stand here and sympathize for you all day –”

“I bet you could,” Harry interrupted viciously.

Draco pretended not to hear him. “ – but I should probably be getting back to the castle. Have someone come and untie you and everything.” He turned and started back to the road, but had only taken two steps when Harry called out to him.

“You can’t untie me yourself?”

Draco turned to face him again. No, I don’t have my wand, how else am I supposed to untie you? he wondered snidely, but said out loud, “I can, but what’s the fun in that? I’d rather have you stand here a while.” Harry glowered at him so venomously that he had to laugh. “I’m just kidding, Potter,” he said, grinning. He rubbed his hands together to get warmth into them. “I can’t untie you myself, sorry.”

“Well, aren’t you going to try to save Her Highness?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Draco said smoothly, his smile fading. “I know you must think I’m some sort of warrior, but in all honesty, I’m not.” At least not with a sword, he added in his mind. If he had his wand, he could beat any Muggle without breaking a sweat.

“I have never thought you a warrior, Highness,” Harry told him frigidly, tossing his head to get the long strands of dark hair from his eyes. “I just assumed you would try to save her.”

Draco looked at him expressionlessly. He wasnÂ’t quite sure the reason his heart was thumping oddly, or why he felt so uncomfortable and insecure the second heÂ’d seen the carriage deserted, but he knew it had to do something with Ginny. He refused to acknowledge the fact that he might be worried about her. He was scarcely worried about anything, much less people. And very much less people like Ginny Weasely.

“Why?” he asked Harry flatly.

“You know something, Highness, I really do not care what you do,” he replied, squirming a little under the ropes. “I cannot feel anything below my neck anymore, and it is extremely unpleasant, so I actually would not mind if you went straight back to the castle.”

Draco frowned at him, now uncertain of what to do. It would make sense to just turn and ride Jack back to get more help, wouldnÂ’t it? The kingÂ’s men would track the gypsies down easier and return Ginny safe and sound.

But it would also make sense to somehow untie Harry himself, send him back to the palace, then go off and find the gypsies himself, while they were still close by. Even though he was just one man, who had no experience with a sword or any sort of fighting tactics that didn’t have use of fists and a wand – and he doubted any gypsy would bother with fists or have a wand, they’d more likely run him through with a knife – he could stop them from doing anything horrendous to Ginny. Watch out for her, so to speak.

“Hold on,” Draco told Harry, still frowning in thought.

He turned and crunched back on to the road, approaching the nearest knight dead in the snow. This man had clearly been able to pull out his sword before heÂ’d been slain, for it was tossed only a few feet away from his body. Draco stepped over him carefully and picked up the sword, the hilt freezing cold in his bare fingers. Suppressing a shudder, he returned to Harry and the tree.

“I’ll cut you loose,” he said, “then you run as fast as you can back to the castle.”

“And you’re going after Her Highness?”

“No, I was planning on staying here to make sure no one steals the bodies,” Draco replied solemnly. He didn’t pause to see Harry’s reaction, and stepped around to the back of the tree, so that when he cut through the ropes he didn’t accidentally slice Harry’s arm off.

It wasnÂ’t easy. The sword wasnÂ’t anything like a knife, for it was much longer. When he reached out to hold a bit of rope steady, his other hand was pushed nearly back to his shoulder, because the blade was so long and the hilt was so far back on it. Still, Harry didnÂ’t make any noise of impatience, or any sort of indication he thought Draco dumb for taking so long. It took almost five minutes just to slice through one strand of rope, and then Draco had to unravel it, walking several times around the trunk, feeling like an idiot who was just walking in circles.

Finally, Harry was able to stumble away from the tree, took a few steps, and dropped into the snow. Draco made no move to help him, but Harry explained briefly, “My legs are numb. The feeling should return in a few moments.” Draco watched as he massaged his arms, trying to get the blood flowing in them, before Harry shot him an irritated look. “You know,” he said sourly, “every second you stand there, it becomes harder to follow the gypsies. It looks as if it might snow again; follow their tracks while it’s still fresh.”

Draco scowled, feeling a bit foolish at just standing there, and he said, “Hurry and get back to the castle.” He spun and dropped the sword back by the knight he’d borrowed it from before treading back to his horse Jack, who was nuzzling at the snow to try and find some grass.

This time, Draco managed to get up on the saddle with barely any struggle, and forced himself to endure the painful bouncing as he steered Jack by Harry. As he passed him, Harry was just getting to his feet. Draco guessed heÂ’d get back to the castle in about forty minutes, and hopefully it would take half as much time for help to come after him.

The disturbed and turned up snow in the woods was an obvious path that the gypsies had taken. Draco wasn’t sure how much of a head start they had, but it had to be a good ten minutes. He realized he didn’t even know if they were walking or on horses. For all he knew they could be miles away by now, if they were on horseback. Which – unfortunately – was likely, for they’d stolen the carriage horses.

Draco managed to get Jack into fast gallop, deciding that if he had any chance of catching up to them soon, he would have to go quickly. After only a few seconds, he began to regret his decision of going after Ginny himself.

Why was he, anyway? He didnÂ’t need to. He was sure that the gypsies wouldnÂ’t kill her, at least not if they hoped to profit from having her kidnapped and alive. But then, there was a chance they didnÂ’t even know she was the princess. He realized he didnÂ’t know much about the situation, that he shouldÂ’ve asked more of Harry. It was too late now, though. HeÂ’d have to figure it out on his own.

Another thought struck him. Why hadn’t he brought the sword? Cursing himself, he made Jack stop, and glanced back over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the carriage anymore – it was clearly behind many trees. He couldn’t go back now. Besides, he didn’t know how to use the sword. So it wasn’t a total loss.

Actually, it is, he told himself with a frown, pressing his heels into JackÂ’s flanks to make him run again. Even if I donÂ’t know how to fight, I could try and scare them and act like I know what IÂ’m doing.

Once again, it was too late. He shouldÂ’ve thought a little before heÂ’d jumped on his horse and ridden off.

Even without the sword, though, the first step was to catch up with them.

Luckily for Draco, Jack didn’t need much directing. The horse seemed to know that they were following a path – or perhaps he could just smell the other horses. Either way, Draco was able to concentrate more on staying comfortable than steering him around.

After nearly ten minutes, DracoÂ’s face was stinging with the cold, and his fingers were red and almost numb. He hadnÂ’t thought to grab a pair of gloves before he left. But then, he didnÂ’t know he was going to have to go running through the forest for five hours on a horse.

Five more minutes trickled by, and he noticed the sky was darkening. Glancing up through the skeleton-like branches, he prayed that it didnÂ’t mean it was going to snow. Yet if it wasnÂ’t snow, it would be night approaching. It would get colder at night. He didnÂ’t know which he preferred, but either way, he was becoming more frustrated.

He didnÂ’t even have a sword, because he hadnÂ’t been thinking and left it behind, and if he did, he wouldnÂ’t know how to use it. The only things he had were cold hands and a horse. Against gypsy men who probably battled against each other for entertainment, it would get him nowhere. HeÂ’d be slaughtered instantly, and he knew it.

What is wrong with me? he wondered. What possibly made him think that he could do this by himself? He shouldÂ’ve ridden back to the castle with Harry to get the kingÂ’s army. Or at the very least been bright enough to bring that damn sword. Is it because I hope to impress Ginny? Is that why IÂ’m riding through the freezing woods to fight rabid men? Because I hope to show her how brave and fearless I am?

If that was the reason, then he was definitely a fool. He remembered back during Hogwarts, he would always sneer down at all the pathetic Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and occasional Slytherin boy who went out of his way to impress some girl by buying her the most expensive bouquet of talking pink roses that Hogsmeade had to offer. Of course, girls were almost always wooed by the way the flowers spoke so tenderly and sweetly, either singing love songs in French or reciting poems of romance in Spanish. They never understood a word of it, but they always squealed and kissed the boy who had given it to them, and it was always disgustingly revolting.

But buying roses for a girl . . . that was normal. Riding on a horse to risk oneÂ’s life for a girl whom one hated was not normal. Not in the least.

I hate her, he thought. I really do. Then why, deep down, did he know that he had never kissed any girl he loathed before the way he kissed Ginny that morning? Yeah, Malfoy, what was that kiss about anyway? he asked himself. God, heÂ’d nearly shagged her right then in there, and sheÂ’d told him to stop.

It had been an entirely embarrassing situation altogether. Firstly for actually snogging her, and secondly because she actually told him she didnÂ’t want it.

She obviously wanted him. But she also obviously didnÂ’t want to want him. He realized they both basically felt the same about each other, which made him scowl for reasons he didnÂ’t know. Yet he also knew that she wanted him in a sense that they would actually have a relationship. He just wanted her for sex.

Or at least, thatÂ’s what he tried to tell himself. Being a virgin, he didnÂ’t really know. But as heÂ’d also told himself before, his feelings were sure to vanish the minute he was back in Malfoy Manor. Whatever screw had gotten loose inside his head now and was making him lust for Ginny would tighten itself back in place once everything was normal again.

A moment later, Draco thought he heard a shout from up ahead. He couldnÂ’t be certain, for all the noise Jack was making while running, so he tugged on the reins to bring him to a halt. Jack snorted, tossed his head, and then stood still, breathing hard from the exercise.

Draco lowered himself down comfortably on the saddle and listened carefully. It was definitely getting darker – night had to be approaching. The gray clouds seemed to hang low over the treetops, giving the forest a misty, ghost-like feeling. He shivered despite himself, scanning the area in front of him.

The trees were too thickly placed together for him to see very far, but he could hear movement. The sound of feet – many light, human feet – so they’re not on horseback, he thought, relieved. As he listened, there was also the occasional unintelligible shout and a sharp hoot of laughter. That’s the sound of a bunch of men, all right.

Judging from the distance of the sound, Draco guessed they were about three minutes ahead, if he rode Jack in a sprint. But he didn’t want to announce his arrival – the only weapon he had was the element of surprise – and Jack made a lot of noise. If these gypsies were smart, they’d know to hide when they heard a horse approaching, for it was most likely someone coming after them. Draco would need to ride a little ways to get closer to them, then leave Jack behind and walk on foot.

Satisfied with what he needed to do for the time being, he put Jack into a slow canter; his ears perked up so he would know when he got close enough.

After a couple of minutes, he saw a few of the gypsies lagging behind through the trees. He pulled Jack to a stop and hurriedly climbed down off him. Jack immediately put his nose down to the snow and searched for some grass. Draco stared down at him for a minute, wondering if he should tie him up. He decided on leaving him free; he was sure to be occupied for hours looking for grass to eat. Draco patted him on the flank, silently thanking him for not tossing him off, and then turned and started to walk quickly after the noise of the gypsies.

Draco saw that they all traveled as one big group. A few of them, the ones in the back, seemed drunk, for they laughed obnoxiously and slapped one anotherÂ’s shoulders, and they didnÂ’t seem as though they could balance themselves. However, he did not see Ginny. His guess was she was somewhere up ahead.

First, before he even attempted to rescue her, heÂ’d need to catch sight of her. The only way to do that was not to follow along behind, but to go up alongside the group. It was a huge risk, though, because it would make him easier to spot. He needed to be where he could still see them, but on brief glance they could not see him.

Bent at the waist, feeling as though he should stay low, he sped up and veered to the left. Certain that he was a good distance to the side of the group, he paused behind a thick tree, and straightened. Glancing around the trunk, he saw them through the foliage of trees walking by, still talking loudly and sounding as if they were all having a good time. And he also still did not see Ginny.

Cursing under his breath, he hurried on ahead, finding another big tree that he ducked behind. This time, he spotted GinnyÂ’s wild red hair, noting that she was near the front of the group. She was walking behind four white horses without anyone touching her to keep her from escaping, but there were several gypsies who were only an armÂ’s length away.

All right, he found her. So what should he do now?

Frowning, he continued to dash from tree to tree so that he kept Ginny in sight. He felt slightly stupid, but as long as no one saw him, then it wasnÂ’t too bad. Plus he had more things to worry about. Like how he was going to take on dozens of grown men without any weapons whatsoever.

A diversion, he thought, watching as Ginny got farther and farther ahead before leaving the safety of the tree trunk and finding another one. Diversions always work.

But how could he make a simple diversion, much less make one big enough to distract the entire gypsy group? Not to mention that if they went running to check it out, some of them would stay behind to guard Ginny. Fighting one gypsy would be hard enough, because heÂ’d probably have time to shout out for the others.

So what could he do? If not a diversion, then what? Now he was beginning to regret leaving Jack behind. A horse mightÂ’ve actually come in handy, he told himself, frowning. But of course, he hadnÂ’t been thinking too brightly, and now it was too late.

Suddenly, a man at the front of the pack yelled out. The entire troop stopped, the drunken men towards the back trying to silence their laughter. Draco pressed himself against the tree trunk, certain no body part was visible to them, and praying they hadnÂ’t paused because theyÂ’d spotted him.

“Take a rest, gentlemen!” someone announced. “We have at least until nightfall before the king will start to look for the princess. So I suggest you take advantage of this opportunity, for we will be traveling all night!”

Several of them grumbled, and one hiccupped so loudly Draco could almost pinpoint the exact man it had come from. But he didnÂ’t dare look out from behind his tree, knowing it would be easier for them to see or hear him now that they werenÂ’t trudging along. He heard the sound of their heavy footfalls as they stepped through the snow, their loud conversations resuming.

He wondered for a brief instant if he should run farther away from them. Now that they were resting, they would most likely spread out, and a few might venture as far as the tree he was hidden behind. But he didnÂ’t risk it; they would most likely hear and spot him moving. So he held his breath and listened acutely for the sound of one approaching.

Nearly ten minutes passed, and he heard nothing except their loud, gruff voices and heavy laughs. Darkness was rapidly approaching by now – Draco knew there had to be a half hour left of daylight. He guessed that Harry had to be nearing the castle already, so hopefully help would be on its way soon.

Then he thought of something. If help was coming, then why did he feel as if he had to save Ginny single handedly? He could just watch from a distance and make sure they didn’t do anything terrible to her. So far, he hadn’t heard a peep from her – but then, he couldn’t hear much over the din the gypsies were making. Still, he knew she wasn’t screaming, so as long as she wasn’t in pain or nearly dying, then he didn’t need to do a thing.

He finally got the courage to look around the tree trunk. The gypsies had all broken off into groups of four or five, sitting on either a large log or a big rock in circles, most in the process of building small fires on flat rocks, up away from the snow. Draco wondered briefly where they had found those things to sit on, for he very strongly doubted they carried boulders around with them, but then he guessed that maybe theyÂ’d looked around while heÂ’d been hiding behind the tree and found them. But it didnÂ’t matter. Now he needed to find Ginny again.

Draco searched, and spotted her sitting near a group not far from him. Well, at least he could keep an eye on her.

He suppressed a groan and twisted back behind the tree. Lowering his head, he rubbed his face in his hands. There really wasnÂ’t anything he could do without getting himself killed besides watch her. HeÂ’d just have to wait for the king and his forces to arrive before he attempted to save her.

He wondered why he felt so fidgety and annoyed at the thought of waiting

* * *

“I’m going to untie you, girl,” said the leader man, whom Ginny had learned was addressed as Alec. “But if you try to run away, I will personally slit your throat. Understand?”

Ginny nodded. She really didn’t even care anymore. She was no longer frightened senseless – or perhaps she was, because she did feel rather numb. It didn’t even hurt much when Alec cut through the ropes on her wrist and nicked the skin along the lower part of her right thumb, causing it to bleed. By now she was rather angry at these stupid gypsy men, angry that they thought they could keep her as a means of money from the king. As if he’d pay anything for me, she thought dryly. He’ll probably write them a letter thanking them for getting rid of me, because I know that he and “Mother” can’t stand me.

“Sit,” Alec ordered, jerking her from her bitter thoughts and pointing down at the ground. Ginny threw him an annoyed glance, only to receive a leering grin in return. “Unused to sitting in snow, Your Highness?” His grin faded. “Get used to it, wench. If I have my way you shall be with us for a very long time.”

“You won’t get your way,” mumbled Ginny, even though she half believed he might, and dropped into the snow. For once she was glad she wore many skirts, because it would take a while for the snow to melt and leak through all her layers. Alec appeared not to have heard her comment – or if he did, he ignored it.

Wrapping the heel of her hand at the bottom of her thumb in her skirt, more frustrated than pained by the bleeding, she looked up and scowled. Beside her, Alec had sat down on a long log that kept him, and two other gypsies, up out of the snow. There were several other men sitting in the same circle, all of them listening to one who was telling them of a bet heÂ’d lost once. Another gypsy was attempting to get a fire in the middle started, even though the wood he was using was damp.

What an idiot, she thought, narrowing her eyes at him. IÂ’ve been kidnapped by a bunch of smelly, uneducated fools.

A few minutes passed, and Ginny began feeling the cold through her skirts. Trying to ignore it, she peeled the cloth away from her cut and glanced down at it. It was still bleeding, and by now it had started to throb. And hurt. It wasnÂ’t that deep, but Alec had managed to slice a good area of skin away, about the size of her thumbnail.

The gypsies in her circle suddenly got louder, and she glanced up, wondering what the excitement was about, and saw that the man had finally gotten the fire started. Of course, heÂ’d only gotten it started because heÂ’d thrown the wet logs away and snapped dry twigs right off the trees, but at least it was a fire. It took only a few moments for the heat to reach her, though her rear end was becoming number and number the longer she sat in the snow.

She glanced around at other campfires. Many were just like the one she was in – all of them were swearing, laughing, cheering, and shouting. Every gypsy she had seen so far had beards and mustaches, with long greasy hair, and crooked, yellow teeth. She also could see deep scars on most of them, most likely from small pox or bad cases of acne. They were definitely not pleasant to look at . . . or smell.

Ginny looked back at her hand. Yes, it was certainly starting to hurt now. Wincing, she pressed her skirt back against it, before wrapping her good fingers around her wrist. Her dad had once told her that to stop the bleeding of something on her hand, she had to cut off the circulation of blood. The easiest place to grasp was her wrist, and she squeezed it hard, releasing it every now and then so the other parts of her hand would still get circulation.

After about five minutes of doing this, she moved the skirt away from it and inspected it again. It was still bleeding, but she noticed it wasn’t as bad as before –

Abruptly, a rough, filthy hand grabbed her wrist, just where she had been holding it a minute before. With a gasp, she looked up to see AlecÂ’s sneering face, before he yanked her to her feet.

“Ouch!” she cried, trying to keep her balance. “What the hell are you doing –?”

Peering down at her cut hand, he interrupted, “What happened, girl? Did you cut yourself?” His voice was like silk laced with blades – smooth but wicked.

Furious, she attempted to yank her hand back, but he kept a good grip on it. The other gypsies around the fire seemed amused by her struggle, and sniggered. Trying to ignore them, she fired back, “No, I didn’t cut myself. You did, you slimy son of a bitch.”

He didn’t appear to have heard her. Instead, his lips curled into a disgusting smile. “I can fix it for you, girl.” And with that, he unexpectedly sat back down on the log, and, still holding her wrist, pulled her down with him. With a startled cry she lost her balance and dropped into his lap, stomach first. She felt his arm slide around her back as he tried to turn her over. She slapped at his thigh with her free hand, swearing at him loudly, which only caused the other gypsies to laugh. She noticed that the rest of the camp had ceased their conversations, and she knew they were all probably watching them and enjoying it.

Alec managed to spin her over, so she was lying on her back in his lap. Her cheeks burning both from anger and embarrassment at the way she was sprawled over him, she reached up and tried to unwrap his fingers from her wrist. “Let go of me!” she shrieked at him, and received only noisy laughter in reply.

Her left hand seemed not to bother him, for he did not attempt to grab it. Instead, he tugged her into a sitting position by the hold he had on her right wrist, smiling smugly and revealing his awful teeth, before bringing his lips down to the base of her neck.

The feel of it gave her unpleasant chills, striking ice through her heart. Using her free hand she placed her palm on his chest, trying to push him away, and tilted her head to the side so he wouldnÂ’t have easy access to her throat. He completely ignored her attempts at shoving him away and kissed her jaw, then her cheek. Then, without warning, he reached up and snatched her face with his thumb pressed against one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other. He pulled her towards him and kissed her full on the lips.

The entire gypsy group erupted in loud cheers and catcalls.

Absolutely revolted, Ginny yanked hard to free her hand, and since he wasnÂ’t trying to hold on to her any longer, she heaved her arm from his grasp. She placed her left hand on his face and shoved him away, sucking the fresh air when his mouth parted from hers.

“What’s the matter, girl? Never been kissed by a real –” he began to ask with a smirk. But she interrupted him by swinging her right palm on his cheek, smacking him with all the strength she could muster.

The slapping noise seemed to echo through the forest, and the entire camp was silent. AlecÂ’s head jerked to the side, and he did not move, blinking. Ginny stared at him for a moment, furious and feeling the need to vomit, and noticed with a touch of satisfaction that sheÂ’d not only made a bright red mark on his face, but sheÂ’d also left blood from her wound.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” she hissed, and jumped to her feet. She wasn’t going to stay with them for another moment – she would rather risk her life than remain with them and be humiliated.

But Ginny had only taken three steps when she heard him let out a groan of anger. She glanced back just in time to see him lunge after her, seizing a handful of her skirt and jerking it. The material ripped, but heÂ’d managed to slow her down. She caught a look of utter fury on his face before he rammed his body into hers, knocking her down to the ground and landing heavily on top of her.

She began to panic now, realizing that she should have controlled herself and not slapped him. Now he was livid, and might even kill her in his rage. Ginny, why canÂ’t you just learn to control that damn Weasley temper? she screamed at herself.

“Bad move, girl,” muttered Alec, his weight pressed against her body and keeping her pinned beneath him. She writhed and struggled, but she knew he was almost twice her size, and there was no way she could get out from underneath him. She just managed to put her palms on his shoulders and try to push him off before he grabbed both of them, crunching the knuckles together, and restrained them above her head in the cold snow with only one hand.

She kicked her feet, the only part of her that could move. Panic was slowly melting into terror once again. She screamed, “Get off me! Get your bloody hands off me! You can’t –”

“You’re far too spoiled, princess,” he cut in calmly, resuming his silky tone again. “Too soft –”

“I don’t care! Let me up, right now!” Her voice was shrill and shrieky, and she sounded like she was hysterical. Which I probably am, she thought dimly, watching as Alec once again brought his face to hers and kissed her. She sputtered against him, trying to turn her head and get out from underneath his lips. But with each turn he followed her.

Oh, God, I can’t breathe, she thought, twisting her legs madly. She tugged on her arms, trying to get them loose. He was only holding her by one hand, after all. And she had to get free. She was almost ready to throw up. The horrible stench of him was filling her nostrils, and he tasted sour – like some magical medicine her mother had always given her when she was younger for a sore throat, the one that always made her gag after she swallowed it. Her head was ringing with the laughter and shouts of the other gypsies, and she was beginning to feel sick.

With one wrench of strength, she felt her one of her hands – the unwounded left one – slip through Alec’s grasp. Without hesitating she pressed it against his forehead, lifting his head up. Startled, he opened his eyes and glanced at her as she removed the heel of her hand from his forehead. In another beat she reached up and dug her nails into his right cheek, dragging her fingers across as quickly as she could.

Alec let out a howl of pain, and she watched as four red streaks appeared in his flesh. Now she knew this could go either of two ways – the first way was she could use the distraction to get up and run away. The second way was he could become even angrier and wring her neck.

Fortunately, the first option appeared to be happening. His hold on her right hand loosened, and she managed to get it out. Now, she thought, breathlessly, I just need to get his body off mine.

Easier said than done. The man weighed about twice as much as she did. She placed both of her hands on his face, trying to lift him off her. It didnÂ’t work, for after a moment his fingers wrapped around her throat.

So the second option also happened.

She gagged a moment, before he completely managed to squeeze her windpipe closed. She dropped her left hand from his face, reached out blindly into the snow for something she could use as a weapon. A stick, perhaps, that she could stab in his eye. But she felt nothing but ice cold, smooth snow that was so freezing it seemed to burn her skin.

Her lungs were already beginning to beg for air, and Alec was only squeezing tighter in his anger. She stared up at his face, which was a mask of wrath and hatred, making him look ten times uglier than before.

Please, I need to do something! she thought frantically, though to whom, she didn’t know. She began digging her fingers into the snow. There were a few inches of it, she found, before her fingertips scraped the ground. But wait – that wasn’t the ground. Her hand dug further, and she found that what she thought had been soil was actually a round, jutting object – a rock! she realized. If she could’ve, she would’ve screamed for joy.

She wrapped her fingers around it – it was about half the size of a Bludger, though it was certainly big enough to help her – and pulled it from the snow. She reached her arm as far back as it would go. Alec was too busy glaring at her and trying to strangle the life from her to notice. Even though several gypsies tried to cry out a warning, it was too late. Ginny swung the rock right into his head, just at his temple.

It made an ill-sounding cracking noise, and AlecÂ’s grip slackened. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his blood dripping down onto GinnyÂ’s dress. Then, with a slight moan, he dropped his face heavily by GinnyÂ’s cheek, his chin poking into her shoulder. She blinked, removing his hands from her neck, and then sucked in air. It was difficult, for he was still lying on her, but it was oxygen. And it was wonderful.

She’d actually saved herself. She’d knocked him out – or perhaps even killed him. Even though she was dismayed at the thought of killing another person, she knew that if she hadn’t, then she would be dead herself.

Now, though, she had the entire gypsy group to face. They wouldnÂ’t be too happy now that she seriously injured their leader. So maybe she wasnÂ’t too safe yet.

Frantically, she shoved Alec off her, rolling him to the side. She sat up, wiping his blood off her cheek and neck, and glanced at the camp. They were all staring at her, some appalled, some looking a bit infuriated. None of them moved, and for a moment, everything seemed incredibly quiet.

Just get up, Ginny instructed herself. Stand up slowly, then turn and run.

She started to rise, but her movement seemed to trigger them. One man let out a cry, and a moment later the total group was shouting and yelling at her. And they werenÂ’t words of gratitude.

“Oh . . .” she muttered, feeling weak with fright, and scrambled the rest of the way up. As she spun around, preparing to run deep into the woods and try and loose them, they were jumping to their feet, preparing to attack after her.

She had only stumbled a short distance into the forest before she looked ahead of her and saw someone standing in her path. For a brief instant, her heart plunged deep into her stomach in dread, because she thought it was another gypsy. But it was only for an instant, for it was no dark, filthy man.

It was Draco.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she screamed at him, more from being completely and utterly stunned than anything else. What was he doing there? Where had he come from? He must’ve been hidden in the trees nearby, for when she’d looked but a minute ago her way had been clear.

She threw a glance over her shoulder and saw the gypsies were about two seconds from grabbing her. Immediately she didn’t care why Draco was there – he just was, and that was good enough for her.

“What does it look like I’m doing here, Weasley?” he retorted. “Saving your goddamn life, that’s what.”

Well, that also worked for her. She dashed behind him, instantly feeling a sense of safety and relief flood her weary body. At least she wouldnÂ’t have to fight alone anymore. Once she was a few feet in back of him, she glanced around at the gypsies, who had all stopped short, glaring at Draco. They were all in a mob, holding swords or large daggers. The expressions on their faces looked downright evil.

“All right, gentlemen,” Draco said calmly, and Ginny could hear the smirk in his tone. “You’ll have to get by me first. The prince. Of Wales. Try it; I dare you.”

The gypsies paused. But only for the blink of an eye. A second later, they rushed forward like a monstrous wave. Draco just barely had the time and wits to whirl around and hurry to Ginny’s side. “Fuck, I didn’t think they’d actually come,” he swore, not even glancing at her.

Of course they’d come, she thought, biting back her angry reply. You’re just one person, idiot. As if you’d stop them –

Her mind went blank as Draco, in one swift movement, bent down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Without warning, he hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a bag full of quills.

For a moment she was shocked into disbelief, pressing her hands firmly on his back to keep from flipping off. Then he began running, and she gazed up and saw the gypsies racing after them, and was jolted back into her senses.

“Draco? What are you doing?” she shrieked at him, trying to look over her shoulder and see his face. “I have legs. I can run!”

“Not with all the crap you’re wearing,” he said, already out of breath. “So just shut up, will you?”

She strangled a cry and returned her eyes to the gypsies. They were advancing, for Draco wasnÂ’t moving all that fast. The only reason the first few hadnÂ’t reached them yet was because of all the trees. It was a miracle already that Draco himself could maneuver all the shrubbery carrying something as heavy as she.

HeÂ’s so stupid! she thought. What the hell does he think heÂ’s doing? Being a hero?

A moment later, those contemplations were pushed from her mind. She felt her throat close up as several of the gypsies broke off from the rest of the group and sprinted on ahead, circling around her and Draco. TheyÂ’re going to cut us off, she realized, feeling as though her bones had turned to stiff rock.

“Draco,” she whispered, perhaps a little too softly. When he didn’t reply, she hissed louder, “Draco!”

“What?” He was irritated, and breathing hard.

“They’re surrounding us,” she told him, attempting to talk around the lump in her throat. Her voice was quiet and raspy.

“What do you expect me to –” he started through gritted teeth, when suddenly, their luck worsened tremendously.

DracoÂ’s foot caught under something, and he tripped forward onto the ground.

Ginny let out an oof! when she hit the ground, her upper body swinging off DracoÂ’s shoulder and hitting the snow. Her head whacked down hard, and she bit her tongue. An iron taste filled her mouth, which she recognized immediately as blood. She felt DracoÂ’s arm stretched over her stomach. Dazedly, she lifted her head and saw him on his own stomach, propped up by one elbow, his eyes darkly fixed on the gypsies, as they began to circle around them.

Ginny felt fear trickle through her veins, even more chilling than the snow beneath her. She momentarily pictured of one of those swords being thrust into her. To be stabbed, she thought distantly. It must be the worst way to die . . .

Hazily, she felt Draco shift beside her. Blinking, finding that she was nearly blinded by tears that had appeared from nowhere, she tried to clear her vision and see what he was doing more properly. He moved up and leaned over her, his chest inches from her face. His right arm slid beneath her head, cushioning her from the snow. He rested his forehead on the top of her head, and she could hear his ragged breathing, so close to her ear. It took a moment to dawn on her, but when it did, she felt a dull flash of amazement that peaked through her fear and terror.

He was protecting her. Shielding her from the waist up with his body. A wave of warmth surged through her, and for a split second, she experienced calmness. Even though she still knew that he wasn’t much of a defense, for all one had to do was stab him and roll him off her, the gesture of it was something so unexpected, so humanly, that she felt her muscles relax – if only for a brief instant.

When she once again felt the icy snow pressed against her flesh, as if reminding her that she most certainly was not safe, she tensed up at once. The noise of what sounded like millions of heavy footsteps filled her mind, and she peeked underneath DracoÂ’s arm. A pair of shoes, so close she could reach out and brush them with her fingertips, stood directly parallel with her head. Moving her eyes, she found that that there were more feet, though she couldnÂ’t see above the knees. Yet it was enough. Squeezing her eyes shut, her hot tears slipping silently down her cheeks, she turned her face back towards Draco chest and breathed in deeply, trying to soothe her nerves.

Just let this be over quickly, she prayed.

“It seems as though there will be no royalty left to rule,” said a scratchy, rough voice that sounded right above Draco, “for I am about to kill the only royal heirs.”

There came the noise of dry chuckling from the others. Ginny reached and gripped the edges of DracoÂ’s cloak, as if digging her fingers into something would help ease her fear. It didnÂ’t.

She heard Draco inhale through clenched teeth, and his entire body went rigid. They both heard the slight clanging metal – the distinctive sound of one moving a sword. Ginny held her breath, knowing very well that if she didn’t she would start sobbing.

Time seemed to stop for what seemed like a lifetime, but looking back, Ginny guessed it was probably all of two seconds. Then, through the ringing silence in her ears, she heard a quiet noise, the hum of a sleek object flying through the air. A moment later, the still air erupted into confused shouts and pounding footfalls. She didnÂ’t dare move, terrified that whatever was happening, it most likely wasnÂ’t in their favor.

However, Draco seemed to be curious as to why he wasnÂ’t dead yet, or at least pierced in the back with a sword. He took his arm out from underneath her head and slid to the side so that he was no longer on top of her. Torn between scared that he was no longer protecting her and being happy that she could actually see something, she lifted herself up onto one elbow and scanned the forest in confusion.

The gypsies were retreating back into the forest. At her and DracoÂ’s feet lay a man with an arrow sticking from his neck, his sword still in his loose hand. Several other corpses were sprawled nearby, all of them shot dead by arrows.

“What the hell . . .?” Draco muttered, raising himself into a sitting position.

Ginny sat up as well, noticing briefly that they were both still close enough for DracoÂ’s left leg to be slightly over her right one. Trying to put it out of her mind, and trying to slow her pounding heart, she wiped her wet cheeks and twisted around. Behind her, running rapidly towards them, were several dozens of men, either wearing armor and holding swords or carrying bows with quivers of arrows on their back. Well that explains something, she thought.

Most of them ran right by Ginny and Draco, but one man who wore neither armor nor a quiver of arrows stopped and gave them both a quick bow. “Your Highnesses, allow me to escort you to a horse.”

Next to her she felt Draco relax. Then, ignoring the young man who offered him his hand, he pulled himself up to his feet. As the man went to crouch beside Ginny and grab her arm to raise her, Draco snapped, “Hey, buddy, don’t touch her. I’ve got her.” The man quickly straightened, nodding, and stepped aside. Ginny tried to hide a smile as Draco lifted her up.

“So what exactly is going on?” Draco asked. Ginny leaned against him, and when he didn’t seem to notice, she dared to put her arm around his waist.

The young man gestured in the direction the knights and archers had come from, indicating they were to head that way. Slowly, using Draco for support, Ginny began to move. The man kept their pace patiently as he quickly explained.

“His Majesty sent his best fighters into the forest, Highness. We were lucky to have found you. If we had been but a moment later, I fear that the both of you would have been dead. Fortunately, we were able to stop that man who was seconds from slaughtering you, Your Highness. That servant –”

Ginny stopped listening to him, having no desire to hear the story. They had come, and that really was all that mattered to her at the time. She wanted nothing more than to peel off her disgusting, bloody dress, crawl into bed, and sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

ItÂ’s over, she thought, never experiencing such relief before. WeÂ’re not dead, and IÂ’m not in the possession of the gypsies anymore.

She hadnÂ’t ever felt as exhaustingly happy as she did at that moment.

After a two minute walk they came to a clearing, where there were several horses and another couple of dozen knights and archers, apparently waiting around to be ordered to do something. One man, who looked important, climbed down from his horse and approached her and Draco, giving them a curt nod. “Your Highnesses, Her Majesty has sent me personally to see that you are both transported back to the castle safely. Your Highness,” he said, clearly addressing Ginny, for he looked at her, “your mother asked that you ride on my horse –”

“She’s not riding on anyone’s horse,” Draco snapped.

If Ginny had had the energy to laugh, she would have. Instead she just smiled tiredly and said, “I would actually prefer to ride with Draco. Is that all right?” She did not tell him that she would feel ten times safer with Draco than him. Nobody needed to know that except herself.

The important man looked speechless for a moment, before he nodded again shortly. “Of course, as Her Highness wishes.” Then he turned to Draco. “We found this horse not too far from here.” He gestured to a horse behind him. “Is this the one that you rode earlier?”

“Yeah.”

Ginny turned her face to look at him. “You had a horse,” she said firmly, frowning, “and you arrived on foot? Why didn’t you ride in and sweep me off my feet onto it?”

He smirked at her. “You read too many books. I would never do that.”

Right, I should’ve known, she told herself, sighing heavily. Feeling her eyelids start to droop, she turned to the important looking man and told him, “Just get us home as quickly as you can.”

The man bowed. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Ginny relaxed a moment against Draco, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she told him, quietly. When he didn’t reply right away, she glanced up at him, and found him looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Then he smirked. “You’re welcome . . . Highness.”

Ginny felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. Glancing at him one last time, she thought, My knight in shining armor.

For the first time in many days, she found the strength in her to laugh.