Fairytale Ending

When Ginny Weasley was six years old, she freed a genie from a bottle.

She had fished the lime-crusted bottle out of the pond behind the Burrow one afternoon. The bottle didn’t look like anything special at first, but when she held her prize up to the light, Ginny thought she caught a glint of green shining through. She thought vaguely that if she cleaned it up a little, the bottle might look nice on her window sill. As she began to rub at it with the edge of her shirt, the bottle began to vibrate madly. Startled, Ginny dropped it just in time for the genie to emerge in a puff of smoke.

Once she got over the initial shock, Ginny wasn’t actually surprised to see the genie. Such things were known to happen in the wizarding world, after all. And they seemed to happen all the time in the stories Charlie read to her at night. Why shouldn’t they happen to her?

Fascinated, Ginny watched as the genie stretched each and every limb in turn, then meticulously brushed the dust off of his three-piece suit, straightened his tie, and combed his hair so it was parted severely down the middle. He looked like the uptight wizard whose office was next to her dad’s at the Ministry. It wasn’t what she had expected based on Charlie’s stories, but he was the first genie she had ever met, so she decided to keep an open mind.

Ginny waited patiently as the genie finished grooming himself and look up to see her.

“Good afternoon,” the genie said, straightening his posture. “I presume you are the individual who liberated me from my former abode.”

Ginny nodded mutely.

“You have my utmost gratification, mademoiselle,” he said with a small bow.

“You’re welcome,” Ginny whispered.

“As a token of my appreciation,” the genie continued, “I am permitted to bestow upon you the realization of precisely one wish.”

“You can grant me a wish?” Ginny asked, trying to clarify. She didn’t understand everything he said—she hadn’t learned so many long words yet.

“That is what I said,” the genie said with a frown.

“Any wish?” Ginny asked hopefully.

“Yes, indeed,” the genie answered. “But only one, so I advise you to choose judiciously.”

Ginny thought about her wish for a long while. Her first idea was to ask for a new racing broom, but her brothers wouldn’t let her play Quidditch with them anyway, and would probably take it and fly it themselves. She considered asking for gold, but she wasn’t sure what she would spend it on—she had a vague notion that her family was poor, but hadn’t seen enough of the world to really understand what that meant. What she really wanted, Ginny decided, was adventure and romance. She longed to live in one of Charlie’s stories—to fight a dragon or escape a curse or something else equally exciting, and then ride off into the sunset with her own Prince Charming. Yes, that was it. Ginny took a deep breath, looked the genie in the eye, and said, “I want a fairy tale.”

“Pardon me?” the genie asked.

“A fairy tale,” Ginny repeated. “I want to live in a fairy tale—I want to have an adventure and meet Prince Charming.”

“You want a fairy tale?” the genie asked. “That’s not a very practical wish.”

“I don’t want practical,” Ginny answered resolutely.

“Women!” the genie exclaimed. “Why am I invariably rescued by women? All they want is romance!”

Ginny didn’t answer. She just continued to look at him levelly, her arms crossed stubbornly across her chest.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to institute a trust fund for you instead?” the genie asked. “I am particularly skilled at closing loopholes, if I do say so myself. Or perchance I could establish you in a lucrative career?”

“No!” Ginny insisted, stamping her foot. “I want a fairytale ending!”

The genie sighed. “Very well,” he said. “So be it.” Then he turned to go.

“Wait!” Ginny called. When he turned back to her, she asked, “That’s all?”

“Yes,” the genie answered. “Unfortunately, it shall be as you wished.”

“But when?” Ginny asked. “How will I know?”

The genie shrugged. “I agreed solely to provide you with certain experiences at an unspecified time in the future. Advance notice of the details was not specified in the wish. You should have paid more attention to detail if you required such bells and whistles.”

Ginny’s shoulders sagged. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

“That would be contrary to policy,” the genie answered stiffly.

“Please?” Ginny asked, tears welling up in her big brown eyes.

Apparently the genie shared every man’s fear of tearful women, for he relented rather quickly, just as Ginny’s father and brothers always did. “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Look for the color green.” And then he vanished before she could ask anything else of him.

~*~*~*~

Ginny immediately set out in search of her fairy tale. Her first victim was a green frog sitting near her by the pond. She kissed it in every way she could think of, but it still hadn’t changed into a prince by the time her mum called her in to dinner.

Then there were peas at dinner, which were green and reminded Ginny of the story of the Princess and the Pea, so she saved some in her pocket, and put them under her mattress before bed that night. Unfortunately, she had no trouble sleeping, and the next day her mum scolded her horribly when she found the mushy green mess in the bed.

A few days later, Ginny planted some beans which most definitely did not grow into an enchanted beanstalk.

As the summer progressed, Ginny kept at it. She was constantly inspired—she had never realized before just how many green things there are in the English countryside in the summer. When September came, however, everything changed. Her oldest brothers returned to Hogwarts, and the rest of the Weasleys again began lessons with their mum. Ginny had less time to think about fairy tales, but she never quite forgot about them, either.

Five years later, Ginny was convinced that she had found her fairy tale in the person of her brother’s friend Harry Potter. Ginny had heard stories of Harry all her life, of course, and they were even more interesting than fairy tales, because she knew they were true. He was a hero—a real, live hero. That alone excited her, and she was so giddy with anticipation for his visit that she couldn’t stop talking about it. But it wasn’t until she saw his emerald green eyes that she knew—knew absolutely and without any doubt whatsoever—that he was her Prince Charming.

For the next five years, Ginny worked tirelessly to make her fairy tale with Harry a reality. He had even rescued her from a Basilisk during her first year at Hogwarts, which was decidedly fairy tale-like, but he never showed any sign of wanting to ride off into the sunset with her. It was extremely frustrating. Meanwhile, she worked hard on her studies and flying, hoping to catch Harry’s attention somehow. She had even flirted with and dated several other boys, partly to make Harry jealous. She didn’t really feel much of anything for any of them. How could she, when she knew her destiny was with Harry? There was only one exception—one boy who could leave her breathless with a single stolen kiss. He was wholly unsuitable, however, and she figured she was more attracted to the exhilaration of a forbidden flirtation than to the boy himself. Regardless, she forgot him and all the others entirely once Harry kissed her.

Ginny felt as if she were walking on air for the rest of her fifth year. Every one of her wishes was coming true. When Harry broke up with her, supposedly to protect her, she felt as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water. She was angry for a while, but after some thought, she realized Harry was just being heroic, and wasn’t that one of the things she loved about him? She waited patiently until after the war, when her patience was once again rewarded.

Three years and three breakups later, however, Ginny finally conceded that Harry must not be her Prince Charming after all. If he was, he had to be the least attentive Prince Charming ever. The genie had either lied to her or had just been a figment of her imagination to begin with. Embittered, she resolved to lock all thoughts of genies and fairy tales away with her other childhood memories, and to move on with her life.

Ginny was successful for several years. She focused on her career, becoming a well-respected Quidditch player. She became involved in a succession of relationships with men who paled in comparison with her ideal, but were very nice indeed, if a little boring. And she stopped paying any particular attention to the color green. So is it any wonder that when Ginny’s fairy tale finally found her, it took her completely by surprise?

~*~*~*~

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ginny said to nobody in particular. “Somebody lives here?”

As the invitation had contained a Portkey, Ginny hadn’t paid particular attention to the details, such as where she was actually going. All she cared about was that the ball was to celebrate the long-anticipated engagement of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander, it was to be hosted by one of Rolf’s cousins in Germany, and that the dress was formal. Nothing had prepared her for the sight before her: perched on a mountaintop was a gigantic castle, adorned with towers and turrets galore—it looked like something out of a fairy tale.

Ginny’s breath caught at that thought. Then she noticed that the livery of the footmen standing by the door was green with gold trim, and her heart started racing. Could this finally be it? Could Rolf’s cousin be her Prince Charming? She took a deep breath and stepped inside, prepared to be swept off her feet.

The castle’s interior was even more elaborate than the exterior. Every direction Ginny looked was more fantastic than the last. The floors were marble, the walls covered with tapestries and gilt-framed portraits, and the ceilings were adorned with painted murals that were constantly in motion. She followed the sound of music to the ballroom, and stopped short in the doorway. Everything was decorated in cream and gold. Hundreds of mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the light of thousands of candles suspended in three crystal-encrusted chandeliers and the colorful mass of couples twirling about the dance floor.

Ginny felt very much out of place, but took a deep breath and set her shoulders. She wouldn’t let anyone intimidate her, even if they all lived in palaces like this one. She stepped into the room, and began searching for Luna, Rolf, or anybody else she knew.

The first familiar face she saw took Ginny by surprise. “Malfoy?” she asked, stepping forward to greet him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, Weasley,” Draco said calmly. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, blushing. It had been ten years, but she still felt a rush of the old attraction she had felt for him back at Hogwarts. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

“Of course,” Draco said imperiously. “I always look fantastic.”

Ginny laughed. “You still have the same ego as ever, don’t you?”

“It isn’t ego if it’s deserved.”

“Of course not,” Ginny said, still smiling. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“I’m family,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Whose family?” Ginny asked curiously.

“Everyone’s,” Draco answered with a careless wave of his hand that encompassed the whole ballroom.

“Be careful how much you exaggerate,” Ginny said, grinning. “Hermione is here somewhere, and I’m sure the last thing you’d want to do is claim a relationship with her.”

“Touché,” Draco said, his lip quirking up in half a smile. “But I’m not exaggerating that much. I’m probably related to most of these people, if you look back enough generations. In fact, you and I are fourth cousins.”

“We are?” Ginny asked. Wizarding genealogies made her head spin, so she had to rely on others to fill her in. “I never knew that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “You Weasleys never did have any proper familial pride.” Ginny’s face turned red with indignation, but Draco continued before she could say anything. “To answer your question, the reason I am here is that Rolf is my second cousin on my paternal grandmother’s side, and Friedrich is my third cousin once removed through the Blacks.”

“Friedrich? Who’s that?”

“Friedrich is our host tonight.” Draco paused, and then added, “And he’s coming this way.”

A moment later, a man appeared at Ginny’s side. He was tall and blond with clear blue eyes and stately carriage, and he was quite the most handsome man Ginny had ever seen. Even more, he was wearing green dress robes with a crest embroidered in gold on his chest. She swallowed hard. Maybe this was it, after all.

“Good evening, Draco,” the man said, bowing slightly in Draco’s direction.

“The castle is radiant tonight, as always, Friedrich,” Draco answered, returning the bow.

“Thank you,” the blond man said smoothly. “You are too kind. Will you do me the honor of introducing me to your very beautiful friend?”

“Of course,” Draco said, a little stiffly. “This is Miss Ginevra Weasley. She was at Hogwarts with me and is to be Luna’s maid of honor. Ginevra, this is my cousin, Friedrich, Baron von Schwarzberg.”

Ginny was startled. Was he really a baron? She’d never met a baron before. How should she act? In the end, she decided to just relax and try to forget his rank. If they were fated to be together, then he wouldn’t mind. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, awkwardly holding her hand out to shake Friedrich’s. He kissed it instead, causing her to blush furiously.

“Enchanted,” Friedrich said. “It is rare that I have the opportunity to meet any young lady as exquisite as you. Will you give me the pleasure of dancing with me, Miss Weasley?”

“Of course,” Ginny said, taking the arm Friedrich extended to her, and following him out onto the dance floor. As he swirled her effortlessly around the room, Ginny noticed many women—and Draco Malfoy—glaring at her. But she was too happy to care.

Ginny spent the whole evening at Friedrich’s side. They danced, and ate rich foods, and he introduced her to scores of people whose names she forgot almost immediately. Ginny didn’t drink any wine, but felt intoxicated nonetheless. She felt like Cinderella without having to worry about whether the clock struck midnight or not. The evening was everything she had ever dreamed of—a perfect fairy tale.

Shortly after two o’clock in the morning, Friedrich pulled Ginny aside. “If you are willing, Ginevra,” he said, “there is something special I would like to show you, something I only show to a very select few.”

“I’d love to see it,” Ginny answered, smiling broadly.

“Splendid,” Friedrich said. “Then come with me.” With a grand gesture, he swept aside a tapestry to reveal a passageway that had been hidden from view.

Ginny stepped inside, then followed Friedrich through a labyrinth of corridors and stairways until he opened an elaborately carved door and invited her in. The room was as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle. There was a sitting area on one side of the room, and a long table laden with the same foods that had been served downstairs in the ballroom. At the other end of the room, there stood an enormous four poster bed. Ginny wanted to ask Friedrich where they were, but he had immediately stepped to the room’s single window.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Friedrich asked, as Ginny took her place at his side.

The window was open to the outdoors, and only protected by a few iron bars. But Ginny didn’t notice this at first—she was too captivated by the sight before her: the most spectacular dragon she had ever seen. It was a Chinese Fireball, but much bigger and more graceful than the Fireballs she had seen when visiting Charlie in Romania. “Yes, lovely,” Ginny answered, after a moment.

“Her name is Rosalinde. She is my pride and joy.”

“I can see why,” Ginny said.

After a few minutes, Rosalinde noticed that Friedrich and Ginny were there, watching her. She came closer to the window, and cocked her head.

“Guten Abend, meine Liebe,” Friedrich said to the dragon. “Ich bringe Ihnen Ginevra.”

Rosalinde came closer still and inclined her head the other way, as if inspecting Ginny. She then lay down, letting out a contented puff of fire as she nestled underneath the window.

“She likes you,” Friedrich said to Ginny.

“I like her, too,” Ginny said, smiling up at Friedrich.

“I’m glad,” he said, taking her hand. “I hope you will find this room comfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, looking around her.

“You’ll be staying here from now on.”

Ginny’s mind reeled. She liked Friedrich—liked him very much indeed. But it sounded almost as if he expected her to live with him, and she wasn’t ready for that. She’d only met him a few hours before, for Merlin’s sake.

“You’ll need to eat more, too,” Friedrich continued. “Become a little plumper.”

“What?” Ginny asked. “Why would I want to gain weight? I work hard to keep in shape for Quidditch.”

“You will have no need to play Quidditch anymore,” Frierich answered.

“Of course I’ll still play Quidditch!” Ginny said indignantly. “It’s one of my favorite things in the world!”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Friedrich said. “You’ll stay here, in these rooms, until you have enough meat on your bones. Then I will feed you to Rosalinde.”

“You’re planning to feed me to your dragon?” Ginny asked, dumbfounded.

“Only the most beautiful women are good enough for her, and you really are gorgeous.” Friedrich reached out and drew a finger along Ginny’s cheek.

Ginny shuddered, and took a step back. She reached for her wand, but found it was missing from where she’d stowed it, wedged between her bra strap and her rib cage.

“Oh, no,” Friedrich said silkily, pulling her wand out of his pocket. “There’s no way out. But that won’t matter. In the end, you’ll want to help Rosalinde. They all do.”

“Never!” Ginny said.

“We’ll see,” Friedrich said, smirking in a way that reminded her of a twisted version of Draco—one who really was cruel. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow, Ginevra. And while I’m gone, be sure to eat up!”

And then he was gone, leaving an irate Ginny behind. She spent the next three hours searching every corner of the room for any sign of a way out, but she found none. The door she had entered through was locked fast, with not even a crack appearing between the door and the jam. The only other door in the room only led to a windowless bath, with no possible means of egress. The window wasn’t an option, either. Even if she could have fit between the bars, it had a sheer drop directly into Rosalinde’s enclosure. On the off chance that she had survived the fall, Rosalinde certainly would not have let her escape unscathed.

Ginny collapsed into one of the plush velvet chairs. Why did every auspicious beginning of her fairy tale end in disaster? Friedrich had seemed so promising, but he ended up being worse than Harry. At least Harry had only ignored her most of the time—he hadn’t been insane. She sighed, thinking that her situation really seemed hopeless. Her only chance was to refuse food. Maybe then, she would no longer be beautiful enough or plump enough for Rosalinde’s high standards. But it was going to be very, very difficult to refuse food with such a spread staring at her from the table—her eyes kept drifting towards a particularly tempting cream puff drenched in chocolate syrup.

Ginny had just forced her eyes away from the buffet for the third time when she heard a noise at the window. She turned to see that the bars had been removed, and Draco’s head was bobbing outside.

“Draco?” Ginny asked, not quite sure whether or not she was hallucinating.

“Well, are you coming or not, Weasley?” Draco asked irritably.

“Coming?” Ginny asked, her exhausted brain having trouble comprehending anything.

“I would think it is perfectly obvious, but since you seem to be even stupider than usual right now, I’m here to take you away.”

“To take me away?”

“Yes, Weasley,” Draco said with a sigh. “Unless you’d rather stay here and become dragon food?”

“No!” Ginny said, finally understanding. She rushed to the window, and climbed out onto the back of Draco’s broom. Her added weight caused the broom to drop precipitously, and Draco nearly kicked Rosalinde’s head. Luckily, he managed to turn just at the right moment so they didn’t wake the sleeping dragon.

As they flew away, Ginny asked, “How did you know to come for me?”

“This isn’t the first time Friedrich has tried this,” Draco answered. “He tries it every year or two. The whole family knows to watch out for him. When I realized both of you were missing from the ball after he monopolized you all night, I put two and two together and went home to get my broom.”

“He’s done this before?” Ginny asked angrily. “Why did you let me near him?”

Draco shrugged. “There was no helping it. You were clearly besotted from the moment I introduced you,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been able to convince you that he’s mad even if I had tried.”

Ginny started to protest, but then she realized he was right. She sighed. “How did you realize I was gone?” she asked

“I was paying attention,” Draco said, “which is more that you can ever seem to do.”

“That’s probably true,” Ginny said with a sigh. “Thank you, anyway.”

She relaxed into Draco, her arms around his waist and her cheek pressed against his back. She thought she heard him mutter, “You’re welcome,” though she was never sure. But she didn’t care. Casting a glance behind her, she saw that the sun was beginning to rise. She smiled. She might not be riding off into the sunset on a white horse with Prince Charming, but she was riding out of the sunrise with Draco, and that was good enough for her.

~*~*~*~

“That has to be the most pathetic fairy tale I have ever heard,” Draco said contemptuously when Ginny finished telling him the whole story over a lavish breakfast at Malfoy Manor a couple of hours later. “I think your genie must have been defective.”

“He didn’t seem to have much of an imagination,” Ginny conceded. “He tried to convince me to let him set up a trust fund for me instead.”

“That would have been a lot more practical,” Draco said. “What kind of idiot asks for a genie for a fairy tale anyway? You could have asked for anything!”

“I was six!” Ginny said indignantly.

“Still, you could have done better than a fairy tale!” Draco

“Oh really? What would you have asked for?” Ginny asked.

“A lifetime supply of chocolate, of course,” Draco answered, taking a large bite of an éclair.

Ginny looked at him incredulously for a moment, then burst into laughter. “And that would have been so much better!” she said. “You’d be so fat by now that Friedrich could have fed you to Rosalinde instead!”

“No,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Friedrich only feeds women to Rosalinde. Besides, Malfoys do not get fat.”

“They don’t?” Ginny asked, trying to contain her laughter. “That’s good to know. I would hate to have a fat Prince Charming, after all.”

Draco almost choked on another bite of éclair. “What?” he gasped. “You think I’m your Prince Charming?”

“Who else?” Ginny asked. “You saved me, didn’t you?”

“Hardly,” Draco said. “Your plan would have worked in the end.”

“But it was much nicer to be saved.”

“I imagine so,” Draco answered. “But I refuse to be your Prince Charming. I am definitely not charming!”

Ginny smiled. “You can be my Prince Not-Charming, then. I like you better that way, anyway.”

“That’ll be the day,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m being serious, you prat,” Ginny said exasperatedly, and threw a bit of toast at him.

Draco was suddenly very still. “What are you saying?” he asked quietly. “Are you saying you really like me?”

“Of course I am!” Ginny said exasperatedly. “Are you thick?”

“I’m not thick,” Draco said with a scowl. “I’m just being careful. You do have a habit of acting stupidly about other men every time I show an interest.”

“I do no such thing!”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’ve forgotten how you chased Potter after our…interludes at Hogwarts? And Friedrich was just last night!”

Ginny blushed. “I’ll concede about Harry, but not Friedrich.”

“Are you really trying to say you didn’t act like an idiot over Friedrich last night?” Draco asked incredulously. “Because I can assure you that you did.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ginny said, looking down at the remains of her eggs. “You didn’t express any interest last night.”

“I was building up to it,” Draco said petulantly.

“Then it was the slowest buildup ever,” Ginny muttered.

“Perhaps,” Draco said, shrugging. “But I’m not about to get my hopes up again if you don’t mean it this time.”

“I mean it,” Ginny said. “I think I did at Hogwarts too, I was just too blind to see it then—and too caught up in my idea of what a fairytale ending should be.”

Draco leaned across the table, looking intently into Ginny’s eyes. “And now? What do you think a fairytale ending should be now?”

“Kiss me, and maybe we’ll find out,” she answered breathlessly.

She was right.

~*~*~*~

When Ginny Weasley was six years old, she freed a genie from a bottle, and he promised her a fairy tale. When she was twenty-six years old, she finally found her Prince Not-Charming—and they lived happily enough ever after.

~The End~

Author notes: “Schwartzberg” means “black mountain.” I have no idea whether or not there is really a Baron von Schwartzberg; if so, he undoubtedly is nothing like Friedrich, and I hope he is not offended by my use of his name. The translation of “Guten Abend, meine Liebe. Ich bringe Ihnen Ginevra.” is “Good evening, my love. I bring to you Ginevra.”