Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley Harry Potter James Potter
Genres:
Romance Mystery
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 10/21/2001
Updated: 10/02/2002
Words: 143,884
Chapters: 17
Hits: 70,312

All You Need Is Love

MochaButterfly

Story Summary:
Ginny and Draco wake up one morning to find themselves in a totally different world. The year is 1607, Draco is Prince of Wales, Ginny Princess of England, and they're Muggles. Everything's different, but the worst thing is they're . . . engaged.

All You Need is Love 10

Posted:
04/16/2002
Hits:
3,951
Author's Note:
Um, I tried hard to make Draco in character this chapter, because his and Ginny’s relationship kind of changes. This is actually a rather dull chapter, sort of a transition, but I promise, the next one will get exciting. I really, really, really apologize for the lack of action.


Chapter Ten
Deceptions and Lies

It was well after noon when Maria shook Ginny from a deep, sound sleep. She hadn't slept so well in the past days since she'd been there, and she was reluctant to open her eyes.

"Midday meal, Highness," whispered Maria. "Come, food is what you need. Wake up, dear."

Food. Now that was enough to get her up. Slowly, she raised herself into a sitting position among the many pillows that were set up against the back board of her bed, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her sliced hand. Glancing down at it, she saw it was firmly wrapped with white bandage. She didn't need to worry about it anymore - right now, she was starving. She allowed Maria to set the silver tray across her lap. Ravenous, she began eating at once, and she chewed and shoved the food into her mouth in a most unprincess like way.

There was something nagging at her mind, though. Something that she shouldn't be forgetting . . .

Then she remembered, and it made her stomach churn and the food turn to stone in her mouth.

Harry.

I need to do something about him, she realized. In an instant she made up her mind. Placing the tray aside, she began to shove the mounds of blankets off of her, glancing up at Maria. There was an odd look on the maid's face, one that Ginny couldn't recognize. Before she could attempt to figure it out, the expression was gone, replaced with a warm smile and her twinkling black eyes.

"Feeling better, dear?"

"Sort of," she admitted, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She hadn't even bothered to change into a night dress; the night before, she'd just ripped off her filthy skirt and bodice and slept in her underthings. She'd managed to fall asleep despite the pinching of the corset, and the fluffiness and itchiness of her lacy petticoats. "Send Harry in here, please," she ordered rather abruptly.

Maria's kind face melted into one of surprise. "But you are not decent, Highness -"

A little annoyed, Ginny nodded. "Yes, I know. But all the parts that need covering are, so there's nothing wrong with him coming. Just send him in here immediately."

"As - as you wish, Your Highness." Maria actually bowed her head before turning and leaving the room.

Once she was alone, Ginny stood up and began to pace. There was an unsettling feeling inside her, because she knew it was foolish to send for Harry if he was, indeed, the killer. He could kill her without thinking twice.

But then, that would be stupid. If he did kill her, then everyone would know it was him, because he would have been the only one with her.

Still, a small part of her was wondering why she didn't just tell her parents about the knife. There would be no way to convict him of murdering, of course, but she was pretty certain it was against rules for a servant to have a weapon, especially in the presence of royalty. If her parents knew, they would be sure to send him to jail for it. She could just imagine her mother claiming her life was in danger because a lowly servant possessed a dagger. Wouldn't it be easier just to tattle on him, and have him locked away, unable to kill?

It would be, she knew, but there was also a strong chance that the king and queen would overreact. They might have Harry killed for it. And if he was killed, and the murders continued, proving he wasn't the one doing it, then she would never forgive herself. Surely she still, deep down, believed that he was innocent, that he couldn't be so brutal and cold. She needed to see him and give him a chance to defend himself.

I will be able to tell if he's lying or not, she thought. Future Harry was never good at hiding his feelings; this Harry can't be either. He certainly had trouble hiding his anger and resentment towards her, if that was any hint to how well he was able to contain his emotions.

So she would ask him questions. She would find out if he was guilty or not. And when, only when, she was sure he was, then she would tell her parents about the knife he had in his possession. And she would make sure he was only locked away for it, not killed.

It was a little odd how she still cared for him, even though he hated her, and though he might be hurting children and their parents. Somehow, she could never bring herself to loath or despise the face of Harry Potter.

What was the real Harry Potter doing now? In the future? Was time still going on three hundred and ninety years from now? Was the earth still revolving, and was she there experiencing it? Perhaps, she thought, furrowing her brows together, the Ginny Weasley everyone in this world thinks I am is now in the future, playing me.

Is that what was happening? The princess of England had switched identities with her? Were their worlds completely warped, switched somehow, and it was possible that the real princess didn't look anything remotely like Ginny did, or even have her name, but perhaps the minds of all those who knew her were tampered with, and made to believe that she actually looked like Ginny?

Ginny let out a moan. It was all too complicated. A number of things could have happened to her. It was also possible that she just entirely disappeared from the future, that she was missing and her family and friends were searching for her.

They'll never find me, she told herself with a dry, humorless laugh. Not here.

Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe she just didn't exist in the future. Whoever had done this to her, whoever had sent her back into this time, might have just wiped her existence from the face of the earth during the late twentieth century. There was still a Weasley family, perhaps, but there was no youngest sister. There was still a Chamber of Secrets, but it had never been opened, for no one had found Tom Riddle's diary and been used to open it.

Thinking that she did not exist was so depressing, she felt her eyes burn with tears. What if she managed to get back to the future, and her own mother didn't recognize her? What then? What would she do? Live in a time when she wasn't even a person? When she didn't have any sort of existence or family or identity? That would be even worse then living now, she told herself. Maybe its better we just stay here. At least Draco's here.

The knowledge was definitely more comforting then it would have been a week ago. But it still didn't make her feel warm and happy.

I won't be happy until I'm back in 1998, she thought, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. If my family doesn't recognize me, then I'll somehow worm my way into their lives. I'll make Mum take pity on me, and somehow become a part of them again. I won't let them never know me.

And maybe she was totally overreacting anyway. She would never know, though, if she didn't find a way to get back.

There came a knock on Ginny's doors, and she hurriedly wiped her eyes dry and sucked in a breath. "Come in," she called, thankful for her steady voice.

Harry stepped in, and started to close the door behind him, when he looked up and saw her. Instantly he looked back down and murmured, "I beg your pardon, Highness. I shall wait until you are dressed . . ."

Frowning, she spoke before he could leave. "It doesn't matter," she told him. "I just want to speak with you for a moment. I've get enough on, and if I don't mind you looking at me, then you shouldn't mind, either."

He kept his eyes on the floor, but nodded and shut the door. He did not attempt to move further into the room.

Ginny inhaled deeply, and jumped right to her first question. "Where did you get that knife?"

"What knife?" he asked, distractedly, staring fixedly at the carpet.

His cheeks were clearly flushed, and that threw Ginny off. How could he be guilty of murdering when he blushed at the sight of her bare feet and arms?

"You know what knife I'm referring to," she said calmly and coolly, her tone clipped and short. "The one with the black hilt. The one you used in the carriage."

"Where did I get it?" he repeated, still looking down. Was he avoiding her eyes because he was trying to lie, or was he honestly so embarrassed to stare at her?

"Yes."

"Why does it matter?"

She sighed, a bit frustrated. Why couldn't he just answer the question? She curled her toes into the carpet, and went straight to the point. "Did you kill them?"

He jerked his head up, finally meeting her gaze. She stared hard into his eyes, trying to hint deception. His face was sincerely surprised at the question, but his eyes were clouded. With what sort of emotion? Why couldn't she decide? It was a mix of several, she figured. Shock, hatred, sadness, and . . . pity? If it was pity, then it had to be for himself.

"Kill whom?" he asked. He was puzzled, she could tell by his tone, but was it just to mask something else? Did she hint some malice underneath it?

"We spoke of this in the carriage yesterday," Ginny replied, surprised at her own businesslike manner. "Before . . . the gypsies."

Harry's face relaxed into understanding, and his eyes narrowed. "Ah yes, I remember. You think I killed all those people."

"Did you?"

"No!" There was no hesitation, only straightforward indignation and insistence. For all she could tell, he was being truthful.

"Then why do you have the very knife that was used to murder those families?" she demanded.

He blinked, taken aback. "I don't." He spoke softly, without much backbone. It was the first strong hint that proved he did not believe what he was saying.

"You do." She pressed her lips into a thin line. "And you know you do. I can tell. So if you have the murdering weapon . . ." She took a few steps closer to him, hoping that perhaps she could read his expression better. ". . . then I'm guessing you murdered people. So tell me the truth, Harry. Did you or did you not kill those families?"

As she came closer, he took a step back and his back pressed against the doors. His face hard, but his eyes unusually quiet and calm, he hissed, "I did not. The truth I am telling, Highness. Such a thing I would not lie about."

Oh, how much she wanted to believe him. He sounded so . . . sincere. But if he didn't kill, then why does he have the knife? her mind yelled at her, reminding her not to give in. She could not let her feelings for him interfere in her judgment.

"Then tell me another truth . . . where did you get the knife?" She was right before him now, giving him no way to step around her. "Tell me, Harry, and don't skip around the answer."

His eyes suddenly lit up with fire. "You want to know, Your Highness? All right, I shall tell you. I got it from the doctor."

Ginny squeezed her eyebrows together in confusion. That certainly was not the answer she was expecting. "From Tom?"

"Thomas," he corrected, and he relaxed his tense muscles, his gaze softening. "He gave it to me just before we left on the carriage yesterday."

"Wh - why?" Ginny wasn't sure why her heart was pounding. She was sure Harry could hear it.

"I am not entirely sure," he replied, and she knew right away he was telling the truth. "When he gave it to me, he said, 'Use this for protection. You and the princess may need it.' He had an odd expression, one that I did not trust, but I did not know how to tell him no, for he is higher rank than I. So I accepted."

He knew. Tom knew the gypsies would attack us. Ginny tried to steady her breathing. It has to be why he gave Harry the knife.

Tom was probably the very one who had the gypsies attack her. He must've told them where to intercept the carriage.

Oh, how could she, even for an instant, have thought Harry was the one to fear? It was Tom, just as she'd thought in the beginning! Even as she pondered now, he could be out killing more people. And she was wasting her time with Harry. How could she have been such a fool?

Without even thinking, Ginny collapsed against Harry, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stiffened at her touch, but she did not care; she held him tight, resting her cheek against his shoulder, and tried to stop her tears from coming. "I'm so sorry," she told him quietly, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Oh, he smelled so much like future Harry . . . of the same sort of soap. It was reassuring, the most reassurance she'd had in ages.

It was so wonderful to just have someone to lean against she didn't even care that he wasn't hugging her back, that his own arms were hanging limply at his sides and he was tense and unmoving. She was holding him, and that was enough. Though holding him wasn't like holding Draco - Draco was erotic, and thrilling, and dangerous - holding Harry was almost . . . brotherly. It was like hugging one of her brothers, and God, how she missed that.

"I'm sorry of all the things I did to you," she said, her voice thick with the sound of tears. "I'm a stupid person, an idiot, and I know that. And I know you can never forgive me. But just know that I'll always be here for you, Harry, if you ever need me. If you or your father need anything, then you come right to me. Don't even think; just do it."

She released him and pulled away, looking down as she dried her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Harry was staring at her with a closed face, a stony face, and even his eyes were unreadable. She didn't know if he believed her, but it didn't matter, at least not at the moment. She would have to deal with Harry later; right now, she needed to see Draco.

"You may go," she said quietly, turning away from him. He didn't need to see her pathetic tears.

He did not move for a long moment. Finally, just when she was about to yell at him to get out, he said quietly, "My father tells me not to trust you."

The gentleness in his voice made her turn. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest, and she could feel her heart thudding beneath her ribs. "I can't be blamed for what my parents did," she whispered, as an annoying tear leaked out. God, how she hated crying in front of people. It made her look so helpless, she knew.

His eyes hinted his compassion as he replied, "We cannot choose our family. I do not blame you for what happened."

Before she could think about what he meant, he turned and left the room.
* * *

An hour later, Ginny was dressed and sitting on Draco's bed. She'd barged right in and found him asleep, and woken him up. They needed to talk, and badly.

She watched as his scrawny servant dressed him, not feeling the least bit awkward of being present. As long as he was wearing something on his hips, then that was fine enough for her. And as it was, he was wearing a lot of clothing, as everyone did during this bloody time. She thought it was rather remarkable how different it was nearly four hundred years later.

"I'm going to have Alexandria come here," Ginny told Draco, biting the inside of her cheek to attempt to hide a grin as he was trying to step into his tight trousers. Hurriedly, before she could burst out laughing, she went on. "Maybe she has some idea of how to get us back."

"Wouldn't it make more sense just to have Dumbledore come here?" Draco asked. He slapped his servant's hand away and buttoned his trousers himself.

"Yes. But first I would like to see this girl first."

"Draco shrugged, tossing his hair from his eyes and meeting her gaze. "Whatever. Just as long as we eventually see Dumbledore."

"And just as long as he comes here. I don't trust venturing out in a carriage right now." She grinned at him. I should come in while he's dressing more often, she thought. It was the most amusement she'd had in what seemed like years.

He caught her smiling at him, and raised an eyebrow and smirked. "All right, I'm glad you're being turned on by this little show, but maybe you could leave now and go send for this sorceress woman?"

Standing, she started to leave, but then thought of something. Pausing, she looked at him, wondering if she should ask what she had on her mind. Draco and his servant were busy fiddling with his large collar, but Draco could feel her eyes on him, and asked, "What?"

She sat back down, biting her lower lip. "Yesterday, when you saved me from that gypsy . . ."

When she didn't continue, he pressed, "Yeah . . .?"

"How long had you been there?"

"What do you mean?" He shot her a glance, his face only showing interest and no other emotion.

"Well, I'm grateful for your timing . . ." She hesitated. "But I could have used you about three minutes earlier. I screamed quite a bit, didn't I? Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you," he said slowly.

Embarrassed, Ginny tried to think of a way to state the question. She ran a hand over her forehead. "Then why did you wait so long to come to my rescue?"

Now he'd given up on helping his servant dress him, and stood there while the young boy kept working. Draco blew air out loudly through his lips, looking over towards the door, before returning his eyes to hers. "Well, partially because I wasn't nearby the entire time. I was actually quite a distance away, trying to find my horse."

That wasn't the response she'd expected to hear. Widening her eyes, she asked, "What?"

He stared at her for a moment, then walked and sat down beside her on the bed, ignoring the fact that his servant was still in the middle of dressing him. "I sat there thinking for a few minutes, and figured that I would have a helluva better chance with my horse, now that everyone was settled and not moving about. So I left just for a little while, when I heard you scream, and I tried to run back in time. It took me about a minute, because it's close to impossible to run in deep snow. By the time I got there you were up and running, but looking like hell because you had blood all over you. It was rather gross, actually."

She glared at him. "Sorry for disgusting you," she snapped. "If you had been intelligent and brought your goddamn horse in the first place, you would've taken that greasy guy off me in time, and I wouldn't have had to bash his head in with a rock and gotten blood all over me."

He raised a brow at her. "You hit him in the head with a rock?"

"It was a kill or be killed situation, Draco," Ginny replied, sticking up her chin. "He was strangling me to death."

"You killed a person?" He was obviously having a hard time believing this.

"I don't know if I killed him," she retorted, feeling annoyed at his reaction. "He might just have brain trouble for the rest of his life."

Slowly, Draco grinned. "You - a Gryffindor - actually killed someone. This world must really screw up your mind."

She stood up, her eyes still narrowed down at him. "I'm leaving now. I'm going to send someone to bring Alexandria here. And if you keep teasing me about that rock incident, I will make sure that I go back home by myself."

Draco shook his head, still grinning. "Nah, you wouldn't do that. You promised you would bring me back with you, and even though you killed someone, you're still a Gryffindor, and you wouldn't break your promise. You're too loyal." He made the word seem stupid; silly.

"Will you shut up?" That familiar annoyance was surfacing again, and she felt like slapping his smug face.

"There's only one way to keep me quiet."

"And what's tha -" she started, but he reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her down so he could reach her lips. Startled, she stared at his closed eyelids. Then another familiar emotion washed over her - that of complete bliss, and utter surrender. It was almost ironic that she seemed to love his kiss almost as passionately as she hated his attitude.

Unfortunately, the kiss was short and cool, at least compared to the others they'd shared. He pulled away first, grinned arrogantly at her, and dropped his hold on her hand. "All right, get out of here. This is my room."

Ginny was glad she had her back to him as she left, so he wouldn't see the ridiculous smile on her face.

She quickly located Richard to get her mind off Draco, and gave the head of servants direct instructions to send someone to retrieve Alexandria and have her brought back to the castle. "Send her directly to me when she arrives, okay?" Ginny confirmed.

"Exactly as you please, Your Royal Highness," Richard said, staring at her through half-closed lids. He always looked as though he were about to fall asleep.

Afterwards, Ginny headed back to find Draco, not quite sure what they'd do once she found him. But she didn't even get to the corridor his room was located; halfway there, her mother ran in to her, seemingly appearing from the wall, but really just leaving a dark hallway into the brighter one Ginny was walking in.

Queen Lavinia was looking flushed, her Mediterranean complexion tinged with red in the cheeks, and gave Ginny a simple curl of her lips, rather than a smile, when she saw her. "Darling, I've found you. Come with me, you must tell Francis and me all that happened to you yesterday."

Ginny bit her lower lip, trying to keep in a groan. She really didn't want to describe the previous day. But Lavinia was already grabbing her wrist and leading her to where she wanted her to go. Her grip around Ginny's wrist was gentle, almost motherly, but her slender fingers were freezing.

"We were so worried, you know," Lavinia said, looking straight ahead and not bothering to talk over her shoulder. Her voice had emotion in it, Ginny noticed, but she thought it was a little too much emotion. Too fake; too dramatic. "Once that servant Gary or whatever his name is -"

"Harry," Ginny corrected dully.

"- came right to Robert and said that you were taken hostage by gypsies, I think my heart about stopped." There was a hint of tears in her tone now, and for a moment, Ginny thought that maybe she had perceived the queen much too harshly than she really was. But then she continued, "I am not sure in the least what we would do if you were not here. Who would care for the kingdom? I shall not live forever, and I do not intend to try. I especially do not want to rule forever. I am looking so forward to being able to retire - I only need wait how many days? Eight? Is it really only a week until the wedding?"

Ginny's stomach lurched, though she wasn't sure if the feeling was pleasant or not. In eight days she would be married. In nine days she would no longer be single. She'd be seventeen and married. I'll be Ginny Malfoy, she thought, her mouth going dry. Queen Ginny Malfoy. Her Royal Majesty Ginny Malfoy. Whatever her title, it would always end in the words Ginny Malfoy.

Why wasn't the thought as awfully horrifying as it had been when she had first heard about it?

"We still have so much planning to do," the queen continued, now almost whining. "Can you believe the flowers still have yet to be ordered? It is such a mess. The only thing that seems to be working right now is the making of your gown. But what with you nearly dying of sickness, and getting yourself kidnapped by barbarians - well, there shan't be anyone to wear it come Christmas Day."

If you threw that bastard who claims to be my doctor in jail then I reckon I will be quite fine, she thought furiously. She had to grit her teeth to keep from retorting.

Lavinia released her wrist and motioned gracefully for Ginny to come up beside her. She obeyed, wondering what her mother would think if she suddenly bolted down the hallway. She'd probably yell, "Where are your manners?" before beginning to whine and moan about how Ginny could break her neck running in such a heavy skirt.

"I am eager to hear about what happened with you and those savages," Lavinia said, the word savages rolling off her tongue like it was bitter tasting. For a moment, Ginny fumed. Eager? she thought. As is if my kidnapping was an adventure, something that would make a great story? "Francis will need to be present, of course, to find out exactly what occurred," the queen added. "He shall be sure those fools are jailed for what -"

"Who's Francis?" Ginny interrupted absently, not even realizing that since her mother was calling him by his first name that she should know precisely who he was.

Lavinia raised her elegant eyebrows, her lips puckered, which Ginny found to be a weird expression. "You know very well who Francis is,' she said sternly. "Elsabeth's father."

"Oh, right," Ginny muttered.

"Elsabeth wanted to come, as well," the queen said. She stopped before a set of closed doors, but did not go in. Turning, she faced Ginny. "But she was busy preparing for the ball. She may come around later . . ."

Oh no, I'm not going to another ball, am I? Ginny wanted to moan. But instead she asked casually, "Is this a ball we will be attending?"

"Do not to be stupid, Virginia," Lavinia snapped. "Of course we are. That is the ball we will be going to on Christmas Eve - the only one I am looking forward to, I might add. Then there is one we must make an appearance at on Christmas Day, before the wedding ceremony. You know that there are going to be many parties and such we will be attending following the wedding. And that we are heading for Whitehall Palace the twenty-sixth. We shall be busy well into January.

"But enough of that now," Lavinia concluded. "You should know that; why you are asking I cannot understand. But come, Francis is waiting, and you know how impatient the dear man is . . ."

Ginny rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as Lavinia turned and opened the doors. She went in first, and Ginny followed.

It was the same sitting room Ginny had first met Prince Draco, the one with the velvet couches and armchairs and roaring fire.

There were two people in the room - the man who was Francis, and the maid pouring him tea. Ginny recognized Francis to be the important looking guy who had been waiting for them the day before, who had offered for her to ride on his horse. He was an attractive man, in his mid thirties, with longish brown hair and gray-green eyes. He was wearing something similar to what Draco was always wearing - tight trousers that resembled leggings, and an embroidered vest-like shirt, and leather shoes. Though his clothes weren't as fine as Draco's were, because he obviously wasn't royalty.

Ginny was quite certain he had been flirting with the cute - though young - maid who was pouring his drink, for he had been smiling leeringly at her when they'd entered, and the poor girl's face was bright red. When they entered, Francis immediately rose, grinning, and the maid bobbed a curtsy and hurried towards the door.

"Don't stray too far, Rebecca," the queen scolded as she passed. "I might be requesting some more tea."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Rebecca curtsied one last time and left.

Ginny glanced at her mother. Lavinia had her attention on Francis now, and she was smiling broadly, making her look warmer, and prettier. "Lieutenant," she drawled, holding out her hand. "It does my heart wonders to see you again."

Francis - clearly a lieutenant, Ginny thought - continued grinning and kissed her knuckles. "As well as mine, Your Majesty. It has been nearly a month, has it not?"

Lavinia pouted, and Ginny resisted the urge to gag loudly just to show her annoyance. "I blame Robert for sending you all over Europe to settle silly things. Is that not what he is for? Anyhow, let us not dwell on such unimportant matters. I see that you got my message on meeting my darling Ginny yesterday; I thank you with all my heart. You are such a dear man, Francis. . ."

Ginny was really beginning to think she should've just made up some excuse so she wouldn't have to stay around her mother. It was almost gross how thickly and sweetly she was talking to this man, as if they were the only two in the room. Ginny cleared her throat loudly, reminding them of her presence, so they would not go on.
"And you, Your Highness," Francis announced, looking at her. "Looking a trifle better than you were last night, eh?"

Ginny smiled tightly. "Just at trifle!" she agreed overenthusiastically, and could not resist the urge to clap her hands together. The fact was, though, she wasn't much better since the day before, because despite how she's washed her face and hands and put on clean clothes, her body was still covered with the dirt and sweat from the previous day.

"Wonderful." Francis returned his eyes to Lavinia.

"Shall we sit?" Lavinia smiled too brightly, embarrassed by Ginny's behavior. She knew very well that Ginny was mocking the way Francis was acting. And Ginny knew she shouldn't be, for he seemed like a nice man, but the way he had spoke she couldn't resist.

Ginny was the first to drop down ungracefully onto the couch, and pressed her lips together when Francis sat beside her, smiling.

The queen sat on the couch, her back as straight as a metal pole, her face showing no discomfort. Instead, she gestured a hand towards Ginny, the candlelight glinting off the many jeweled rings she wore. "Ginny, darling, would you please explain to Francis exactly what these . . . barbarians looked like?"

Ginny blinked, staring at Lavinia for a stunned moment. "What do you mean, what they looked like? When I was rescued yesterday, there was, like, fifty guys with swords and arrows who ran after them. Are you telling me that you didn't capture the whole group of them?"

She was surprised, not trying to mean, but Lavinia's cold eyes shot daggers at Ginny, proving that she did not like the tone she was using. Ginny shifted and fixed her gaze on Francis, who was still smiling, though it had lost some of its brightness. She chose to ignore the way her mother was looking at her.

"Care to explain this to me, Lieutenant?" Ginny asked, hoping she sounded a bit gentler than before. She hadn't meant to sound so harsh - apparently her mother was taking it that way, and judging by how Francis's smile had lost its luster, he was thinking she was being rude, too.

"We killed many of them," he replied effortlessly, though his face was troubled. "But several got away. More than several, in fact. About half the band. I had requested that none of them be killed, for it would be too simple a death for such . . . well, I suppose creatures would be the correct term to the call them . . . who would dare harm you. They seemed to outrun my men - it is not easy to run in armor. And it is not easy to shoot arrows through a thicket of trees. In short, they managed to get away. I am almost as upset by it as you, Your Highness."

"Well, no loss, I guess." Ginny shrugged, appearing nonchalant, but inside she felt a little uneasy. Would Tom use them again to try and kill her? If he did, then they would certainly kill her without thinking twice, because not only had she almost murdered their leader, but she was also responsible for half their men being shot down by arrows.

It's no use in worrying about it, she told herself. It's bad enough living in this world - I won't make it worse by being paranoid all the time.

"Well . . . Ginny, why don't you explain what happened, then," Lavinia suggested throwing another sweet smile at Francis.

He smiled back, but Ginny could tell it was only to be polite. She could almost sympathize with him; he couldn't stand the queen, she could tell.

She only told the story because Francis wanted to hear it, and because it might help capture the gypsies. But she left many things out. She explained that she and Harry were going in to town to buy gifts for Christmas - and inside she desperately hoped they actually bought presents during this time, but since neither interrupted her and asked questions, she went on - and the gypsies had come and killed the knights guarding the carriage. Then she told the truth for the most part, just leaving out the part of Alec kissing her and on top of her, and of nearly smashing his head in with a rock. She merely said that when they weren't paying attention she managed to run from the camp, stumbled into Draco in the woods, and that was when the gypsies found she was gone and they both had to sprint away.

"Oh," Lavinia breathed when Ginny was finished. "You poor darling - I did not realize how dangerous it was."

It was even more dangerous then I said it was, honey, she thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"It was just lucky that His Highness was there, eh?" Francis said, smiling warmly at Ginny. She had to allow a tiny smile back.

Now why couldn't she have a father like Francis?

Then she felt angry for thinking such a thing. I do have a father . . . who's a hundred times better than Francis, she told herself firmly. I just need to get back to the time when he exists.

The queen abruptly changed the subject. Ginny knew she couldn't last ten minutes without the topic being about herself. While Francis patiently listened, and Lavinia chattered on and on, Ginny zoned out and thought of nothing in particular. She was getting fidgety - when they excuse her so she could send for Alexandria?

"Would you like that, Your Highness?"

"What?" Ginny snapped out of her stupor and glanced at Francis. Once again, she could see out of the corner of her eye her mother glaring at her, angry because she was not paying attention.

"I said, would you and the prince care to join Elsabeth and myself to the performance tomorrow evening?" he repeated, sounding slightly amused.

"What sort of performance?" Ginny asked.

"Were you not listening?" Lavinia demanded.

"It is quite all right, Your Majesty," Francis said with a grin. "I often daydream myself. I was just talking about the Shakespearean play that's opening tomorrow night at the Robertian Theater. I do believe that William himself will be there."

Ginny was clueless. "William . . .?" she said, waiting for him to elaborate.

Francis gave her an odd look, finally realizing that she was acting a bit weird. "Shakespeare," he finished flatly, indicating in his tone that she was a bit on the slow side for not realizing who he meant.

Ginny's first reaction was to say, "You idiot, Shakespeare's dead." But then she remembered that she was not in the twentieth century, and that there was a very strong possibility that he could be alive. It surprised her, but she found that she was excited by it, too. Go see a Shakespearean play with the writer there in person? How many people did she know could say that they'd done that in her time?

"Wow, I would love to go," she said sincerely. "Which play is it?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream, if I am not mistaken," replied Francis, looking pleased at her thrilled expression.

At least she had one thing to look forward to. She was now even more eager to leave so she could tell Draco. Even though it was very unlikely that he would even care.

"Is it not Cuthbert Burbage performing tomorrow evening?" asked Lavinia.

"I believe all three of the Burbage brothers will be in the performance -" Francis started.

"May I be excused?" Ginny interrupted, no longer able to contain herself. She was not about to sit for another hour with her mother.

Lavinia gave Ginny another death glance, raising her eyebrows briefly to say plainly that she was furious with her for cutting in the conversation so ungracefully. "You can stay here and talk with us, Virginia." She spoke carefully and coolly, and there was only an icy hint of her fury in her voice.

Francis laughed. "I must be leaving anyhow, Your Majesty," he announced, standing up. "I thank you for your never wavering hospitality, and I hope to come again soon. I shall see you tomorrow evening, Your Highness," he added, glancing at Ginny. He bowed, kissed Lavinia's outstretched hand, winked at Ginny, then turned and exited the room.

"Your manners were absolutely appalling," Lavinia snapped the minute the doors were closed behind him. "I have never been so greatly ashamed of you in my entire life. You were slouching! And biting your nails - oh, I cannot even bear to imagine what Francis thinks of you. What the devil has gotten into you, Virginia?"

Ginny, unprepared for such a verbal attack, stared at her for a second. "Sorry," she said after a slight pause, shrugging. She really didn't care what the queen thought of her. But had she really been biting her nails? She hadn't even noticed.

"Get out of my sight," Lavinia said sharply, "before I loose my temper and have you beheaded. Lord knows I cannot afford to kill off my only heir . . ."
"You sure don't seem to mind killing off your innocent servants," Ginny muttered darkly, glaring. She stood as the queen continued to murmur to herself, before hearing what Ginny had said.

Lavinia jerked her head and stared up at Ginny. Ginny held her eyes for one moment before she started towards the door. "What did you just say, Ginny?" she demanded breathlessly.

She stopped halfway to the door, twisting around and smirking. "Would you like me to say it again? What I said was, you sure don't mind killing off your innocent servants," she repeated, slowly and clearly.

Lavinia looked startled for a moment before her eyes turned hard and cold. "I don't know what you are talking about," she said quietly. "Now you are really starting to annoy me."

Ginny stared at her for a long minute, though she was already looking out the window and talking to herself under her breath. For the longest time she had many, many terrible things to say, all at the tip of her tongue. She was seconds away from spilling out her true thoughts on how she saw her mother, but managed to contain herself, somehow. It will only enrage me even more, she contemplated. And all the yelling in the world won't bring Harry's mum back anyway.

Some other day. Before she left the time and returned to her home, she would say all the things that Lavinia needed to hear.

But not now. Now Ginny had to find Draco again, and wait for Alexandria to arrive.

After asking a servant where he was, she learned he was with Elle in the library. And he was, seated at the round table in the middle, across from his sister. They were playing cards.

"You cannot do that, Draco," Elle was scolding him, frowning down at the cards on the table. "It is against the rules and you know it!"

"What?" Draco asked, looking slightly puzzled. "I don't even know what I did wrong. I told you; I don't know how to play this bloody game."

"What game are you playing?" Ginny asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. Elle and Draco turned their heads, not noticing that she had entered before.

"I don't even remember," Draco said, sounding grumpy.

"Trump," said Elle. She grinned at Ginny's arrival. "Draco's being a lump about it - it is like he has forgotten how to play. Will you play with us and remind him how it is done?"

Ginny walked over and sat down in a chair. "I don't know how to play, either," she admitted.

"Really? I thought you did." Elle raised her left eyebrow for a moment, much like Draco did, and looked almost suspicious. "Ah well, I shall teach you then, and you and I can beat Draco's shirt off."

"I don't see how. I'm wearing too many layers," Draco quipped.

Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing. Elle dealt the cards, which were very different from the ones Ginny were used to. In fact, the drawings on them were quite disturbing, almost sinister. Several of the pictures seemed to be of kings, but the others she couldn't tell.

"What sort of cards are these?" Ginny asked, lifting her brows and making a face as she inspected them.

"They're French," Draco and Elle replied at the same time.

Draco smirked. "I asked the same question. Apparently, French cards are a bit . . . evil."

"As everybody already knows," Elle said, her tone saying plainly that it was the most obvious thing. Then she went on to explain the game, which was rather simple. After a few minutes, Ginny got the hang of it. It was actually entertaining, and kept her mind occupied for a few minutes.

"We're going to a play tomorrow night," Ginny said to Draco, suddenly remembering it.

"I'm thrilled," Draco said dully, laying down one of his cards.

"You imbecile, Draco, you cannot do that," Elle said, for what seemed like twentieth time since Ginny had gotten there. "You keep that king . . . no, you cannot put that one down, either. Put the knave down . . . there. What happened to your brain, brother? You used to beat me all the time at this game. Did the gypsies hit you in the head a bit too hard?"

"Ha ha," Draco said with a hard face. Ginny noticed he was crabby, and she knew it was because he was loosing tremendously to his little sister and her. It was almost amusing how annoyed he was looking.

"You won't believe what sort of play it is," Ginny went on, dropping one of her kings on the table.

"And you won't believe how much I don't care to know what sort of play it is," he replied, looking surly when Elle placed one of her cards down and squealed in triumph. She won the hand - again.

"Well, I guess the play itself doesn't really matter," Ginny admitted. "It's A Midsummer Night's Dream. But Shakespeare's going to be there."

"Himself?" Draco lifted his eyebrow, focused in on dealing the cards.

"Yes. We're going tomorrow night."

"Ooh, Shakespeare," said Elle, peering at her hand. "I went to Romeo and Juliet a couple of years ago. I did not understand what it was about, of course, because I was only five, but the costumes and sets were amazing - well, at least I think they were. All I remember is a lot of color. I think you went, too, Draco, didn't you?"

"No," Draco replied smoothly as if he didn't even consider her question, and then sneered at his cards. "Shit, I get the worst deal every damn hand."

"Watch your mouth, Draco," Elle snapped.

"I can't; it's kind of attached to my face. Look, see my cards?" he continued without a breath. "I've got nothing. Nada. I'm going to loose again."

"Well, of course you're going to loose if you keep showing us what you've got," Ginny told him, rolling her eyes.

Draco gave her a sarcastic look but didn't comment.

They played for another two hours, giving up on Trump and going on to a few other games: Primero, Gleek, and a couple of others Ginny didn't remember the name of. She had never heard of any of them, but she knew it was a possibility they were played in her time.

Finally, tired of loosing every single game, Draco threw down his cards and stood up. "God, this is irritating. You two beat me every time. I'm going to get something to drink."

Ginny shot a grin at Elle, who smiled back. She'd been having an enjoyable time playing with them - she'd actually laughed a couple of times at Draco's loosing streak. Sometimes even he cracked a tiny smile, but it was not one that reached his eyes.

"I'll be right back," Ginny told Elle, standing up and following after Draco. She had to jog slightly to catch up with him down the hall, which was hard in her skirts. Once she was at his side, she asked, "I sent for Alexandria. She should be coming any minute now. I actually expected her a hour ago."

"Wonderful," he replied distractedly, then glanced at her. "So that's why you're following me?"

"That," she grinned, "and I was wondering if you would play chess with me. I'm going to ask Elle for a board - chess was invented during this time, right?"

"Are you kidding, Ginny, chess has been around forever," Draco told her. "And sure, I'll play chess, because I know I can beat you at that."

"Ha, I wouldn't be so confident," she warned. "I learned from the best."

"Oh, that's right," Draco said with a sneer. "Your brother nearly got bashed to death on a giant chess board during first year, didn't he? Wow, he must be real professional."

Ginny gave him an impatient look. "Draco, you're just jealous because you didn't get save the day that time."

"Let me just begin to tell you how jealous I am of not being nearly killed when I was eleven," he drawled, giving her an edgy glance. "Dammit, some people get all the luck. Your bloody brother stole my dream right from me."

"Just shut up," she snapped. Why was it he had to make a sarcastic remark for everything she said?

"Where are we going, anyway?" Draco asked, stopping and glancing around the corridor. "We're just walking around."

Ginny paused, too, and shrugged. "First I want to go find Richard and see if Alexandria is ever going to come," she answered. She headed in the direction of the kitchens, hoping Richard was there. Draco followed her, muttering to himself about something.

Luckily, Richard was overseeing things in the kitchen, practically breathing down some woman's neck as she cooked a stew. When he saw Ginny, he straightened and gave her a short bow. "Is there anything you are needing, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she said, frowning. "Alexandria - I told you to send for her hours ago."

"Ah yes, Your Highness, and I did so," he told her with a curt nod. "However, with all due respect, you are mistaken, for there is no one by the name Alexandria in the village."

Ginny blinked, caught off guard. Behind her she heard Draco suck in a breath, most likely an inpatient one. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"There is no one named Alexandria in the village," Richard repeated slowly and smoothly, thinking she had not heard him properly. "I sent one of the quickest messengers in to town, and he reported he asked just about every household if they had an Alexandria, or if they knew anyone by the name. No one did."

Ginny was unbelievably confused. No Alexandria? That had to be impossible. Maria had mentioned her, and Harry had said he'd heard of her before . . . was it possible that she'd gotten the name wrong? Maybe it was Alexandra, or . . . but no, Alexandria was not an easy name to misunderstand.

Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, Ginny thought, trying to ease her unsettled stomach. Dumbledore really is the only one we'll need, right?

Ginny spun on her heel and walked from the sweltering kitchen quickly. It didn't matter - but it was still bothering her. Why had Maria told her of a person that didn't exist? And why did Harry say he'd heard of her? Perhaps Maria had been referring to someone outside the village. That was likely. But if Alexandria was the closest sorcerer outside the village, then why had no one heard of her? Surely she had to be popular.

"I reckon your little maid woman is a little misinformed," Draco said, close behind her as she strode through the freezing hallways. She could hear him smirking at her back.

"Who gives a damn what you reckon, Draco," Ginny retorted foully. "I'm going to ask her about it right now."

Draco stayed with her as she searched the castle for Maria, finally finding her sitting in a room Ginny had never been in before. She was doing needlework with three other maids, and they were all laughing when Ginny walked in.

"Hello, Highness. Is there something I can get you?" Maria immediately stopped her work and looked at Ginny with a warm smile.

Ginny managed a smile back. "Yes, Maria. Can I speak with you for a moment, out in the hall?"

"Of course." She looked slightly anxious, puzzled, and set her needlework in her chair as she stood, and followed Ginny back into the corridor, shutting the door. She glanced at Draco, then returned her eyes to Ginny's face, clearly asking why he was standing there.

"Just ignore him," Ginny told her with a tiny smirk, then sobered. "I need to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Why is there no Alexandria?" She shot her question instantly, hoping to completely surprise her.

Maria stared blankly for a moment, then smiled in realization. "Oh, the sorceress. But what the heavens do you mean, no Alexandria?"

"I sent someone into the village to bring her to the castle," Ginny replied. "There is no one by the name of Alexandria, and no one has ever heard of the name."

"Oh, dear, I thought you knew. She moved to the Wales and England border just a few days ago," Maria said with a smile. "No one ever needed her services here, so she moved."

"So she did live in our nearby village, correct?"

"Yes. In fact, she moved the day you were declared healthy again. Ironic how you just barely missed her." Maria grinned, her eyes twinkling warmly.

Ginny gave a fake smile. "Ah ha, yeah, real ironic. And you know what else is ironic?" Her voice was overly bright. "How no one has ever heard of the woman, even though she just moved all of three days ago! How absolutely hilarious!"

Draco snorted, while Maria lost her happiness, her face turning into what appeared to be hurt. "Your Highness, do you think I lied about Alexandria?"

Immediately Ginny felt terrible, and her smile slipped off her lips. Maria was the only friend she had in this world; what was she doing talking to her in such a way? She was probably acting the way the real, evil Princess Ginny was. "No," Ginny said quietly, hurriedly. "I don't. But I just find it odd - no, curious, that no one has heard of a sorcereress, which a profession that is not common in this world, who used to live here only days ago."

"I do not have the answer to that, Your Highness," Maria said softly. "I am sorry. I did not lie to you - there was a sorceress named Alexandria. I'm sure several people have heard of her in this castle . . ."

"Yeah, actually, Harry told me that he's heard of her," Ginny said quickly, hoping to redeem herself. Her gut was still wrenching inside for the look of pain she had caused Maria. "I don't think you lied, Maria. Really, I don't."

She smiled, but it was an absent and distant one. "Thank you, child. I shall return to my needlework; if you need anything, just tell me." And without another glance, she slipped back inside to the room.

"Well, that explains a lot," Draco said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Ginny said distractedly. "I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore anyway; the only thing that was bothering me was that I thought Maria had lied. Now that I know she didn't -" Draco clicked his tongue, but she ignored him and went on, "- we can just worry about Dumbledore. We'll send someone for him . . . you are sure he exists, right?"

"Yes," he replied sharply. "I did see the man for myself."

"All right, perfect," Ginny said, inhaling slowly. She slapped her hands together, then glanced up at Draco and grinned. "Let's go play chess so I can beat you for the fiftieth time today."

He gave a mock laugh. "Yeah, you're confident now, but once I beat you, you won't be."

* * *

Ginny managed to checkmate Draco six times before he finally quit playing. She found herself slightly disappointed, because she'd been having a good time - it was even more fun than cards had been. Half the time she was blinded by tears of laughter as she tried to make her move, hysterical over his grumbling and muttering and shouts of frustration whenever she took one of his pieces. And yet she still managed to win, tears and aching stomach and all.

After the sixth game, Draco stood up and knocked the small square table between them over, sending the chess pieces and board flying across the room. At first, Ginny was slightly scared, wondering if maybe she hadn't laughed so hard at him, if maybe she had made him mad. But then he turned his face to her and she saw he was grinning.

"I saw that in a picture in a book once, and I've always wanted to do it," he told her, sitting down again. Now they were just sitting in chairs facing each other, no table between them.

"Well, next time you have an urge to do something completely violent like that, I would appreciate it if I wasn't around," Ginny snapped, though she was desperately trying to keep from smiling.

"Violent?" he repeated.

"Oh, flying tables and tiny chess pieces that could poke my eye out isn't violence?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"No. You should live in my house on a day my dad's in a bad mood; then you'll see real violence." He spoke lightly, but there was a hint of bitterness beneath his tone. He stared out the window beside him, which wasn't made of particularly clear glass. The scene outside was contorted to the point where Ginny could only see white and brown blurbs - she guessed the white was the snow, and the brown blurbs where the trees.

"I would prefer not to live with your happy family, thank you," Ginny said, gazing out as well. She felt his eyes on her, but did not look at him.

"Neither would I, to tell you the truth," he said after a moment. "I would've gotten my own flat the minute I graduated from Hogwarts if my father hadn't made me remain at home."

Ginny had to glance at him. He met her eyes steadily. "Why did he make you stay?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what my father is - or, should I say - was," said Draco, one eyebrow raised and one lowered. "I thought all Gryffindors knew."

"Knew that your father was a Death Eater?" she asked, and nodded. "Yes, everyone knows. I'll be damned if I know how your father wasn't put in Azkaban after You-Know-Who's death, though."

"Not enough evidence," Draco said with a knowing smirk. "Direct quote from the wonderful Minister of Magic, Cornelious Fudge. Every other Minister in the world thought my father was guilty, including the Secretary of Magic in America, and you know how Americans could've cared less about the entire issue of Voldemort, and that he should be locked away. They thought that my dad was one the most powerful Death Eaters, and if not jailed, might take Voldemort's place."

Ginny stared at him intently. What had come over him to suddenly spill the status on his father? And he was speaking as if he hated Lucius Malfoy. She had always thought he worshipped the ground his dad walked on. Apparantly she was mistaken.

"That he would take the Dark Lord's place is just stupid, because Father is one of those types who follow orders easily, not the type who can handle making his own orders," Draco continued, scratching the back of his head. "Fudge just likes my father, I think - either that, or Father bribed him. It's probably the latter."

Ginny waited for him to go on, and after several moments passed, she realized his speech was over. "How does that relate with having to stay home after Hogwarts?" she said to him.

"He wants to teach me the ways of Dark Magic, I'm guessing," Draco said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. "He hasn't forced me to do anything yet, but I know he'll chain me to the house if I try to leave."

"Your dad sounds really disturbed to me, Draco," Ginny told him, wrinkling her nose.

"Now you know where I got it from." He was obviously trying to make light of the situation, but he was avoiding her eyes, and she could tell he was a little upset by it.

For the first time ever, Ginny actually pitied him. She actually understood why he was so cold and mean to everyone. He had never had the sort of role model to be a nice person.

This world is definitely doing things to my mind, she thought, returning her eyes to the window. First I snog Draco, then I enjoy playing chess with him. Now I actually understand him?

She was going to need therapy when she returned home, that was for sure.

* * *

Notes on the chapter: There really was no Robertian Theater. It was called Elizabethan Theater, because it was constructed when Elizabeth I reigned (until 1603). I just named it after Ginny's father, the current ruler in this fic.

The Burbage brothers were three popular actors back in this day; I have no clue if they ever performed A Midsummer Night's Dream. I'm totally making that part up, but they were actors.

Shakespeare is real - duh - as is his play. A Midsummer Night's Dream was published in 1600, and I'm guessing it was performed many times in the Elizabethan (or, in my case, the Robertian) Theater because Shakespeare was popular during his time - again, duh.

Whitehall Palace existed in this time; I read it in one of those Royal Dairies books, the one on Elizabeth I. I'm not sure where it is located, but it was standing in 1544 - I'm making the assumption that it was there in 1607, too.

French cards were known to have pictures of king and knaves that were particular menacing. And though I searched for a while, I could not find any explanation of how to play Trump during this time. Sorry!

I am just assuming that the American Minister of Magic is called a Secretary, because here we have the Secretary of Defense or Secretary of Treasury, while in Europe there are all Ministers of Defense and Treasury. So that is just my guess.

Author notes: Okay, once again I apologize for what seems like a boring, unexciting chapter. And actually, it is. But some significant things happened here, which should hint for upcoming chapters.
Next chapter: They go to the play, Ginny has a run in with Tom, and most likely, a heated snog. Or three. 8^D

I’m sorry that I don’t have time to individually reply, but if you have a question from last chapter that just HAS to be answered, then email me.

Thanks to:

Victoria Draco88, Athena, chocagirl23, Lily Vance, Kelsi, AVK, Unregistered, Harry’s Cutie, Frangelicah, Jaheira, Divine, Amara Potter, little*, Nico, MrsSpongeBob333, Guinevere II, flobberworm, Lady Nazgul, Chocolate Goddess, wuwu108, Emma, michellewood, Unregistered (Admiral Lennex), Allison, Unregistered (Szaranea), Gibson girl, and Emerald.

And lastly, Elaine (aka TheGirlWhoLived) for beta’ing this chapter.