Fanfiction: The Crumple-Horned King (Harry/Ron, Hermione/Luna)
Title: The Crumple-Horned King
Author: Anjali (magic_vindaloo)
Genre: Fairy Tale Pastiche, Parody, Humour
Pairings: Harry/Ron, Hermione/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4430
Disclaimer: All characters used belong to JKR; no money is being made.
Summary: "The Frog King" - Harry Potter style, as told by one Luna Lovegood. Starring Ron as "the youngest (and most handsome) prince" and Harry as "the bewitched Snorkack". However, what's going on between Lady Luna and Princess Hermione?
A/N: Also available in German: Der Schrumpfhörnige König. Thanks to booneda for the beta.
The Crumple-Horned King
In olden times, when the deepest desire of one's heart had not yet been banned to reside inside a mirror, but was bound to come true, there lived a king and a queen with all their sons, each of them as redheaded as the other. But only one of them, their youngest son, was so handsome, tall, and well-built that the sun itself, which had seen so much, was astonished and absorbed each time it shone on his face. And that's why time and again one of its Heliopaths seized the chance to escape.
The royal family's castle, which was only known as The Burrow, lay inside a great grove of apple trees, which the royal children particularly liked to play hide-and-seek in. Often, they would come home with a huge basket full of bright red apples, out of which their mother, Queen Molly, baked her famous apple pie. Queen Molly would have never entrusted a servant with the food preparation for her family, for she was too proud how healthy and attractive all of her sons had turned out to be.
However, her youngest son Ronald, even though he was the apple of her eye, was often very quiet and lost in thought. Over and over, Ronald went out into the gardens together with his brothers and his little sister, but whenever he strayed through the grounds, he left his siblings behind until he reached the edge of the marsh that surrounded the royal family's castle. There he sat down on a small lump of rock, producing a tiny golden object from the insides of his burgundy cloak. The Golden Snitch instantly spread its wings and took off from the prince's palm, playfully circling his head. Time and again, the prince seized the Snitch just to let it free again the moment he took hold of it. Every time, it zoomed a little further away, and the prince always hesitated a tad longer until he caught it again. This was the prince's favourite game.
Now so it happened, that on one morning, after the prince had let the Golden Snitch escape across the marsh, he was too busy ignoring the cheerful laughter of his siblings, and thus lost his balance as he tried to seize his toy. Headfirst, he fell into the mud, and although he managed to get out quite nimbly himself, the Snitch descended with a final buzz into the greenish sludge, sinking and sinking, until the surface was just as smooth as before.
The prince lamented to Merlin's beard, cursed loudly - and therefore was quite lucky his mother was out of earshot and his brothers too preoccupied to hear him. Sighing, he lowered himself onto a stone and buried his head in his hands. After all, sorrow wouldn't help him recover his precious plaything. What was he supposed to do now? Should he join his brothers, consequently facing their prying inquiry? They would certainly laugh about his clumsiness, and he clearly wanted to avoid that. Nevertheless, he couldn't spend the remaining mornings of his life sitting on a rock, caught in-between trees and mud, could he?
And as he was sitting there, deeply lost in thought, he heard a splash, a snort, and curious silence.
When the prince opened his eyes again, he was so surprised that he almost didn't believe them: Right in front of him, a dark green, leathery skinned creature had ascended from the mud, and even though it had a stocky built, it appeared to have nimble hands. Two crumpled horns protruded from the shaggy, mud-slick black hair covering its head, whereas its friendly glowing emerald eyes beamed at the dazed prince.
"What ails you, young prince?" the creature croaked, breaking the silence. "Your lament makes my horns crumple!"
"You won't understand," the prince sighed in response. "All things imaginable I can call my own, yet I lost my most precious of all of them. There's nothing I wouldn't give away to get it back into my hands; my Galleons, my noble clothes, -"
But the peculiar creature cut him off. "Do not weep," the Crumple-Horned Snorkack said, "for I will help you. However, I care neither for your money, nor for your clothes. My only reward shall be your companionship. Every day, I will sit with you at meals, eat off your golden plate and drink out of your just as golden goblet. At night, I'll share your bed, and you'll love me just as much as you love your treasured Golden Snitch. If you promise me this, I'll dive into the mud and bring your beloved toy back up again. If not," the green-eyed beast sank a little, waving its bony hand, "I'll be gone, as will your toy."
"Wait!" Prince Ronald cried immediately, his eyes shimmering so bright they were almost emitting sparks. "I will promise you. But now, please dive down right away, before the Snitch is lost forever."
The Snorkack merely nodded, swiftly plunging into the mud.
Meanwhile, a wily thought crossed the prince's mind. How the silly beast does talk! He's so gullible and willing to help that he will undoubtedly have a poor memory, too. Besides - the redheaded prince couldn't hide a grin spreading across his face -, he can't be serious, for he'll never be able to live outside the marsh!
Only a few minutes later, the surface of the marsh ruffled again, as the creature's shaggy head emerged horns-first from the mud. With a snort, he spat out the Snitch that immediately took off into the air, flapping its mud-slick wings. A few splashes hit the prince's nose, making him sneeze. Smiling gleefully, Ronald grabbed the tiny golden ball and made his way home.
"Wait!" the Snorkack squeaked out loudly when he realised the prince was running away. "Hold on! My feet are neither suited for your pace, nor for the forest soil itself! Take me with you! Pick me up and carry me on your strong arms to your castle!" But what did it avail him to croak and grunt, as the king's youngest son was already hurrying back to the castle, having soon forgotten about the crumple-horned creature anyway.
The next day, when the whole royal family was sitting at the dinner table, and Prince Ronald had just helped himself to a second piece of apple pie, a small, mud-spattered creature was waddling its way up to the Burrow, splish-splash, splish-splash, until it reached the gate where it knocked right away, crying: "Prince! Youngest prince, open the door for me! Open up and keep your promise!"
With a frown, Queen Molly sent her youngest son to see who was waiting outside. However, as soon as Ronald had recognized the Snorkack, he slammed the door shut and returned to the dinner table, thereby trying to hide his bewildered expression. Yet, his pounding heart and strained breathing gave him away.
"Now really, Ronald," his mother remarked. "What have you done this time? It's not the Blibbering Humdinger again, is it? As you very well know, I've run out of dried Billywigs, and offering him this treat is the only way to make him leave."
"No, not a Humdinger," Prince Ronald muttered sheepishly, "but a Snorkack. Yesterday, when I was playing by the marsh, my Golden Snitch fell into the mud. The Snorkack got it back for me, and in return I promised him he should be my friend as a reward, but, well, he is just a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I'd have never thought he'd leave the marsh…"
In the meantime, the mud-spattered beast knocked a second time, calling, "Youngest prince, please open up! Let us share your meal and your dessert as well! You promised to be my friend, at night times, too! Youngest prince, please open up!"
Now even his father, King Arthur, spoke up, and that meant quite something, as he'd rather his wife dealt with situations like that. "If you promised him this, then must keep your word. Invite him in." King Arthur exchanged a look with his wife. "Besides, there's still enough apple pie left, for Merlin's sake."
As Prince Ronald opened the door again, the Snorkack promptly waddled inside, heading for the additional chair the king had just conjured up with a flick of his wand. Letting his shoulders droop, the young prince followed and sat down again, too.
But the creature stared up at him expectantly. "Lift me up beside you," it insisted.
Hesitantly, Ronald glanced across the table at his mother, who merely gave him a frown. Shrugging, he admitted defeat and took the sturdy creature by its bony arms, lifting it up onto the chair.
The Snorkack, though, still looked disgruntled and annoyed. Without trying to hide his sneer, Ronald shoved his plate closer to the crumple-horned beast and conjured up an extra pastry fork.
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack ate a second helping, then a third, while the prince choked on almost every mouthful he took. Dusk was approaching outside, and thus it was nearly time for bed. Ronald was terrified of the prospect of having to share his sleeping quarters, let alone his bed with this strange creature. As it was, the beast was in dire need of a bath, but the prince feared that the Snorkack might just claim they share that, too…
Ronald was so deep in thought that he almost missed the Snorkack speaking up once more.
"I have eaten enough and am now tired. Please carry me up to your room and make your four-poster bed ready, so we can both cuddle up into it."
Even though he had known it was coming, Ronald was going wide-eyed. The creature didn't actually mean to ruin the velvet curtains and silken sheets of his bed, did it? Ronald glanced expectantly at his parents, who surely would never allow this!
However, his father merely said, "He helped you when you were in trouble and you turn down his wish?"
Although Queen Molly was picking at the sleeve of her husband's robe, she did not intervene, giving her significant other free rein.
Cursing silently, yet fuming beyond belief, Ronald dragged the Crumple-Horned Snorkack along until he reached his bedroom where he instantly dropped onto the bed, trying to take his mind off the strange creature still crouching on the floor beside him. Still, Ronald wasn't able to sleep, tossing and turning, until he heard a grunt.
"I am tired and I want to sleep as comfortable as you," the crumple-horned beast claimed. "So pick me up, or I will tell your father."
Prince Ronald didn't want to give into blackmail, so he grabbed the Snorkack quite crudely by his arms, and all the while, the beast's previously limp horns were crumpling upwards in eager anticipation. Yet, Ronald didn't lift him up onto his bed, but threw him with all his might against the opposite wall.
"Will you be quiet now?" Ronald almost roared, as the creature collided with the wall.
His answer fell down onto the floor. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack had transformed, he was no longer a magical creature, but a -
Splatter.
Hermione Granger groaned in frustration. Of course, the chocolate ice cream had to fall onto the most exciting passage the exact moment she wanted to read it. Glad that she was finally of age and could perform magic outside of school, Hermione grabbed her wand and sopped up the ice cream that was already melting and threatening to spread all over the parchment.
Where was she cut off? Ah, there it was…
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack had transformed, he was no longer a magical creature, but a nobleman with raven-black hair and kind, emerald green eyes. Biting his lower lip, the stranger sneaked a look at Ronald, who was sitting still on his bed, mesmerised.
"I could think of a way to make me shut up," he smirked, lifting Prince Ronald's chin with one of his long fingers.
Ronald was highly stunned and scandalized at the same time and therefore didn't interfere, as the black-haired stranger claimed his lips.
Slightly frustrated, Hermione let the parchment drop onto her lap. After this passage, the story stopped. Now it was up to her to continue.
That's Luna all over, Hermione thought grinning. Keeping me in suspense until the very last second and cutting off at the most thrilling point!
They had been involved in this game for quite some time by now - their peculiar game that had started out at the end of last term when they had been huddled up in front of Snape's office, terrified. That night, Luna had appeared much calmer than Hermione, and all of sudden the Ravenclaw had begun to tell Hermione a fairy-tale - a tale she had almost certainly made up herself, Hermione supposed. Lost in the sound of Luna's whispered words, Hermione had too begun to feel a little more at ease. Later that night, Hermione had asked her if she knew about traditional muggle folk-tales as well. As the blonde Ravenclaw had said that she didn't, Hermione had promised to send her one of her old books of fairy-tales once she got home for the summer.
And so she had.
In the beginning, Luna had rewritten some of the tales so that they fit existing wizarding myths and sent them off to Hermione, but one day Luna had switched to writing her very own versions of the stories. Highly enthralled, Hermione had admitted that she herself surely lacked that kind of creative talent - but to her surprise, an amused Luna had replied that she merely had had to give it a try.
That had been when Luna had started to send only half a fairy-tale.
And at some point, things had gotten out of hand. Real people had fallen victim to their mutual mad mind - making the results more interesting than ever.
Her eyes gleaming with expectancy, Hermione rushed upstairs to her room, grabbing a quill and some fresh parchment. Once again, she'd have a rather pleasant afternoon…
As Prince Ronald came back to his senses, he flinched, shoving the former Snorkack away.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" he demanded determinedly.
Full of sympathy, the green-eyed king sat down beside Ronald and started enlightening him about his fate.
Hermione scrunched up the parchment with a sigh. Of course, this would have been the most sensible path the prince could have chosen, but unquestionably not the most interesting one.
This was a fable, after all, so things may very well be a little more - fabulous.
Prince Ronald came back to his senses quickly, feeling stunned and puzzled all at once. Ronald's lower lip, where he still felt the stranger's touch, trembled, his gaze wandering back and forth between the black-haired king in front of him and the wall he had just thrown the Snorkack against. What had happened?
So many questions were popping up in his mind, yet the prince was afraid they would come out as a grunt - reminiscent of the Snorkack sitting on the floor a moment ago. The stranger was now scrutinizing him, and Prince Ronald recognized the bold, bright spark of the peculiar creature's eyes that had previously caught his attention when he had first met him by the marsh.
"I'm so deep in your debt," the stranger suddenly spoke up, "and just as lost in your eyes that I won't ever take mine off of you." And all the while, he wasn't moving an inch, but kept kneeling in front of Ronald, their noses almost touching, whilst he was running his long fingers down Ronald's shoulders and arms. "You were the one to release me," he went on, "the one to free me from malicious King Malfoy's cruel curse keeping me away from my rightful throne. Only you were chosen to release me from my muddy imprisonment."
Prince Ronald tried hard to catch on with what the banned king at his feet was telling him, but was constantly distracted by the tingle the stranger's fingers were instigating on his silk-covered skin.
"It was your Snitch that freed me," the black-haired king carried on, and for a split second Ronald was sure his Snitch had actually joined them, its wings tickling the inside of his right wrist, but then he realised that it were the king's fingers painting nonsense patterns on his bare skin. "Isn't it wonderful," he whispered only for Ronald's ear to hear, "to have one's toy back - and at the same time have one's joy back?"
The designated king had scarcely uttered these words when his lips descended upon the prince's neck, making Ronald hastily reconsider his decision not to share his sleeping quarters tonight.
Then they fell asleep, peacefully entwined.
The next morning, the young king addressed Ronald's father, King Arthur, "I, King Harry, hereby ask you for your youngest son's hand, so I can return to my kingdom by dusk and introduce the arrangements for our wedding!"
Of course, King Harry wooed Arthur just as quickly as his son, and Arthur couldn't help but agree to this bond.
Later, as Prince Ronald spent a casual morning with his siblings for the first and last time in his life, two cracking sounds could be heard at The Burrow's gate.
Grinning, Hermione put her quill aside, feeling very much pleased with the result - and with the "side-effects" of their game: Passing a lot of information about muggle culture to Luna, who proved the natural Ravenclaw thirst for knowledge, and exploring her own creative skills - not in a didactic, but in a rather subtle manner.
This time, it would be up to Luna to finish the tale. Why shouldn't she turn the tables again? Up till now, Luna had been the one to choose the protagonists, whereas Hermione had been the one to conclude the story. Why not feed Luna her own lines once more?
Two days later, Hermione received Luna's answer. However, her response turned out not to be the third part of the fairy-tale, but a letter.
Luna wrote that Hermione would learn the ending in due course. They would meet at Bill and Fleur's wedding, find a quiet spot, and there, Hermione would see.
***
Hermione arrived at The Burrow a few days prior to the wedding, feeling undecided what she was anticipating more eagerly: the reunion with Harry and Ron, the wedding reception itself, or her meeting with Luna in-between.
As the wedding day was drawing nearer, Hermione repeatedly caught herself gaping a little too often - and far too intensely - at Harry and Ron and, as soon as the two crept away together, imagining scenarios her best friends were definitely not involved in once they were alone.
During the actual wedding, Hermione was scarcely able to talk to Luna, as the newlyweds caused so much hustle and bustle. Luna had greeted her with an unusually familiar hug, though, and they had been exchanging glances all through the wedding ceremony.
When the feast was finally coming to an end and the previously neatly organized sitting order in the Weasleys' garden had turned more and more into a lively muddle, Hermione at last found Luna, who was currently talking to Ginny.
Once Luna had spotted her, too, she winked at Hermione and sneaked into the house.
"Pardon me, I have to -" Hermione paused, taking another sip of champagne Fleur's parents had brought along, "fix my hair." After all, she had to find a way to tear herself away from her best friends. As Harry and Ron seemed to be much more enthralled by the Firewhisky than by her company anyway, she quickly tiptoed into the house.
Without spending much thought to where she was heading, Hermione found herself in front of Ron's room, the door standing a little ajar. However, her gut instinct proved to be right, as she could make out an ash-blonde shock of hair inside.
Determinedly, Hermione opened the door and was immediately welcomed by Luna's dreamy smile.
And on the blonde's lap lay a piece of parchment, waiting to be unfolded.
Without saying a word, Hermione joined her on the bed, and simultaneously they unfurled the parchment and started to read.
An enormous white carriage, drawn by four white golden Hippogriffs, had come to a halt in front of the castle's gate.
The carriage had been the reason for the first crack, and not only Arthur and Molly, but also Ronald and Harry were searching the cause for the second crack in vain.
The Hippogriffs had barely come to rest when the just as black-haired servant of the young king emerged from the carriage, raised his pointed hat and bowed to the royal party.
"Sirius, is it the carriage that's breaking apart?"
"No, my Lord, the carriage it's not. It was one of the chains not only surrounding my heart, but keeping me in captivity, transfigured like you, living as a dog, almost dying in agony, till your curse has been broken, and your heart mended again."
Just then, they heard another cracking sound, and out of nowhere, a piece of parchment appeared in Sirius's hands, which he presented to King Harry right away.
At once, the king began to read aloud:
"Various versions exist of this tale, arising from all kinds of quills and hands. One thing they all have in common." At this point, King Harry fixed his eyes upon the whole crowd, since Prince Ronald and his siblings had arrived as well; but apparently, the words felt thick on his tongue, as he carried on rather hesitantly. "One thing they all have in common, but what is it? Can frog and owl maybe help you out?"
Hermione glanced at Luna. They were both still holding the parchment, but Hermione took no notice of that; instead, she was busy being enthralled by the playful gleam in Luna's eyes.
"Just take a look," Luna offered, her voice far more teasing than usual.
Frog and owl… Hermione wondered, her gaze moving restlessly through Ron's room. Frog and owl!
Ron's tiny owl Pigwidgeon was sitting in his cage on a cupboard, and precisely next to him sat a grumpy frog, staring rather moodily in her direction, and between them lay - a roll of parchment?
"Could that be -?" Luna's voice cut her off.
Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed the parchment, unrolling it the moment Luna seized it, too. Hastily, Hermione let her eyes wander across the parchment, instantly coming to a halt.
Undoubtedly, this was in turn Ron's crawly and Harry's curvy, a little childlike handwriting, but it couldn't be true… mustn't be true… Especially one particular passage caught Hermione's attention.
"I am tired and I want to sleep as comfortable as you," the small Mooncalf claimed. "So pick me up, or I will tell your father."
Princess Hermione didn't want to give into blackmail, so she grabbed the Mooncalf quite crudely by its spindly legs, and all the while, the creature's enormous flat feet were curling upwards in eager anticipation. Yet, Hermione didn't lift it up onto her bed, but threw it with all her might against the wall.
"Will you be quiet now?" Hermione almost roared, as the creature collided with the wall.
Her answer fell down onto the floor. The Mooncalf had transformed, it was no longer a magical creature, but a blonde, fair-skinned lady with kind, round blue eyes, wearing posh garments. Biting her lower lip, the blonde lady sneaked a look at Hermione, who was sitting still on her bed, mesmerised.
"I could think of a way to make us both shut up," she smirked, lifting Princess Hermione's chin with one of her fingers.
As the blonde lady's mouth descended upon hers, Hermione was far too lost in the feeling of the lady's soft lips to feel stunned or scandalized. Therefore, she gave her full rein.
Ron and Harry had done what? Had they really made up this text about Luna and her? That was simply outrageous! Hermione, fuming inside, was about to ask for Luna's opinion when the Ravenclaw beat her to it.
"The ending, that's what matters now! How could you forget?" the blonde interjected, batting an eyelid at Hermione.
Hermione forced herself not to take a glimpse at the middle, but instead examined the final passages.
"Various versions exist of this tale, arising from all kinds of quills and hands. One thing they all have in common." At this point, Lady Luna fixed her eyes upon the whole crowd, since Princess Hermione had arrived as well; but apparently, the words felt thick on her tongue, as she carried on rather hesitantly. "One thing they all have in common, and that is a kiss."
Slightly puzzled and, for the most part, baffled by the intense flutter in her stomach, Hermione glanced up from the parchment - and ended up gazing directly at Luna. Somehow, when they were so eagerly reading the tale, their hands had gotten closer, their fingers almost entwining now.
"A kiss," Luna whispered, looking straight into Hermione's eyes.
"A kiss," Harry softly mouthed into Ron's ear, watching the two girls through the slightly open door to Ron's room.
Harry was almost panting onto Ron's neck now, causing a rather pleasant tingle, and the redhead now wasn't so sure his knees were merely shaking due to the immense amount of Firewhisky they had already downed. Then, Harry's right hand descended onto his waist, and Ron was certain it wasn't due to the alcohol.
"What're you thinking about? You have such a faraway look in your eyes," Harry snickered, interrupting Ron's not so coherent thoughts, and placed his left hand on Ron's waist, too, drawing him closer.
Ron was able to smell the Firewhisky in Harry's breath and just now wondered why the corridor wasn't already swimming before his eyes when he could taste Firewhisky again. Harry's lips tasted of the burning liquid, of something indefinable sweet, and above all, of a burning more, more of these lips, this gentle closeness and sweet dizziness. Harry's lips opened little by little, his head falling to the side, hands wandering up Ron's back, and Ron couldn't help but lean into him, letting himself be lightly pushed against the wall, until finally their tongues met, entwined, and came apart yet again. Ron no longer wasted a thought about the sweet dizziness; now, he just felt it.
After endless hours of kissing - though Ron assumed it had only lasted a few seconds in reality thanks to their drunken daze -, they separated again.
"Do you suppose," Ron chuckled, trying to keep his voice low, "that Luna and Hermione would have as much fun watching us as we had observing them?"
*** Fin ***
Author: Anjali (magic_vindaloo)
Genre: Fairy Tale Pastiche, Parody, Humour
Pairings: Harry/Ron, Hermione/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4430
Disclaimer: All characters used belong to JKR; no money is being made.
Summary: "The Frog King" - Harry Potter style, as told by one Luna Lovegood. Starring Ron as "the youngest (and most handsome) prince" and Harry as "the bewitched Snorkack". However, what's going on between Lady Luna and Princess Hermione?
A/N: Also available in German: Der Schrumpfhörnige König. Thanks to booneda for the beta.
The Crumple-Horned King
In olden times, when the deepest desire of one's heart had not yet been banned to reside inside a mirror, but was bound to come true, there lived a king and a queen with all their sons, each of them as redheaded as the other. But only one of them, their youngest son, was so handsome, tall, and well-built that the sun itself, which had seen so much, was astonished and absorbed each time it shone on his face. And that's why time and again one of its Heliopaths seized the chance to escape.
The royal family's castle, which was only known as The Burrow, lay inside a great grove of apple trees, which the royal children particularly liked to play hide-and-seek in. Often, they would come home with a huge basket full of bright red apples, out of which their mother, Queen Molly, baked her famous apple pie. Queen Molly would have never entrusted a servant with the food preparation for her family, for she was too proud how healthy and attractive all of her sons had turned out to be.
However, her youngest son Ronald, even though he was the apple of her eye, was often very quiet and lost in thought. Over and over, Ronald went out into the gardens together with his brothers and his little sister, but whenever he strayed through the grounds, he left his siblings behind until he reached the edge of the marsh that surrounded the royal family's castle. There he sat down on a small lump of rock, producing a tiny golden object from the insides of his burgundy cloak. The Golden Snitch instantly spread its wings and took off from the prince's palm, playfully circling his head. Time and again, the prince seized the Snitch just to let it free again the moment he took hold of it. Every time, it zoomed a little further away, and the prince always hesitated a tad longer until he caught it again. This was the prince's favourite game.
Now so it happened, that on one morning, after the prince had let the Golden Snitch escape across the marsh, he was too busy ignoring the cheerful laughter of his siblings, and thus lost his balance as he tried to seize his toy. Headfirst, he fell into the mud, and although he managed to get out quite nimbly himself, the Snitch descended with a final buzz into the greenish sludge, sinking and sinking, until the surface was just as smooth as before.
The prince lamented to Merlin's beard, cursed loudly - and therefore was quite lucky his mother was out of earshot and his brothers too preoccupied to hear him. Sighing, he lowered himself onto a stone and buried his head in his hands. After all, sorrow wouldn't help him recover his precious plaything. What was he supposed to do now? Should he join his brothers, consequently facing their prying inquiry? They would certainly laugh about his clumsiness, and he clearly wanted to avoid that. Nevertheless, he couldn't spend the remaining mornings of his life sitting on a rock, caught in-between trees and mud, could he?
And as he was sitting there, deeply lost in thought, he heard a splash, a snort, and curious silence.
When the prince opened his eyes again, he was so surprised that he almost didn't believe them: Right in front of him, a dark green, leathery skinned creature had ascended from the mud, and even though it had a stocky built, it appeared to have nimble hands. Two crumpled horns protruded from the shaggy, mud-slick black hair covering its head, whereas its friendly glowing emerald eyes beamed at the dazed prince.
"What ails you, young prince?" the creature croaked, breaking the silence. "Your lament makes my horns crumple!"
"You won't understand," the prince sighed in response. "All things imaginable I can call my own, yet I lost my most precious of all of them. There's nothing I wouldn't give away to get it back into my hands; my Galleons, my noble clothes, -"
But the peculiar creature cut him off. "Do not weep," the Crumple-Horned Snorkack said, "for I will help you. However, I care neither for your money, nor for your clothes. My only reward shall be your companionship. Every day, I will sit with you at meals, eat off your golden plate and drink out of your just as golden goblet. At night, I'll share your bed, and you'll love me just as much as you love your treasured Golden Snitch. If you promise me this, I'll dive into the mud and bring your beloved toy back up again. If not," the green-eyed beast sank a little, waving its bony hand, "I'll be gone, as will your toy."
"Wait!" Prince Ronald cried immediately, his eyes shimmering so bright they were almost emitting sparks. "I will promise you. But now, please dive down right away, before the Snitch is lost forever."
The Snorkack merely nodded, swiftly plunging into the mud.
Meanwhile, a wily thought crossed the prince's mind. How the silly beast does talk! He's so gullible and willing to help that he will undoubtedly have a poor memory, too. Besides - the redheaded prince couldn't hide a grin spreading across his face -, he can't be serious, for he'll never be able to live outside the marsh!
Only a few minutes later, the surface of the marsh ruffled again, as the creature's shaggy head emerged horns-first from the mud. With a snort, he spat out the Snitch that immediately took off into the air, flapping its mud-slick wings. A few splashes hit the prince's nose, making him sneeze. Smiling gleefully, Ronald grabbed the tiny golden ball and made his way home.
"Wait!" the Snorkack squeaked out loudly when he realised the prince was running away. "Hold on! My feet are neither suited for your pace, nor for the forest soil itself! Take me with you! Pick me up and carry me on your strong arms to your castle!" But what did it avail him to croak and grunt, as the king's youngest son was already hurrying back to the castle, having soon forgotten about the crumple-horned creature anyway.
The next day, when the whole royal family was sitting at the dinner table, and Prince Ronald had just helped himself to a second piece of apple pie, a small, mud-spattered creature was waddling its way up to the Burrow, splish-splash, splish-splash, until it reached the gate where it knocked right away, crying: "Prince! Youngest prince, open the door for me! Open up and keep your promise!"
With a frown, Queen Molly sent her youngest son to see who was waiting outside. However, as soon as Ronald had recognized the Snorkack, he slammed the door shut and returned to the dinner table, thereby trying to hide his bewildered expression. Yet, his pounding heart and strained breathing gave him away.
"Now really, Ronald," his mother remarked. "What have you done this time? It's not the Blibbering Humdinger again, is it? As you very well know, I've run out of dried Billywigs, and offering him this treat is the only way to make him leave."
"No, not a Humdinger," Prince Ronald muttered sheepishly, "but a Snorkack. Yesterday, when I was playing by the marsh, my Golden Snitch fell into the mud. The Snorkack got it back for me, and in return I promised him he should be my friend as a reward, but, well, he is just a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I'd have never thought he'd leave the marsh…"
In the meantime, the mud-spattered beast knocked a second time, calling, "Youngest prince, please open up! Let us share your meal and your dessert as well! You promised to be my friend, at night times, too! Youngest prince, please open up!"
Now even his father, King Arthur, spoke up, and that meant quite something, as he'd rather his wife dealt with situations like that. "If you promised him this, then must keep your word. Invite him in." King Arthur exchanged a look with his wife. "Besides, there's still enough apple pie left, for Merlin's sake."
As Prince Ronald opened the door again, the Snorkack promptly waddled inside, heading for the additional chair the king had just conjured up with a flick of his wand. Letting his shoulders droop, the young prince followed and sat down again, too.
But the creature stared up at him expectantly. "Lift me up beside you," it insisted.
Hesitantly, Ronald glanced across the table at his mother, who merely gave him a frown. Shrugging, he admitted defeat and took the sturdy creature by its bony arms, lifting it up onto the chair.
The Snorkack, though, still looked disgruntled and annoyed. Without trying to hide his sneer, Ronald shoved his plate closer to the crumple-horned beast and conjured up an extra pastry fork.
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack ate a second helping, then a third, while the prince choked on almost every mouthful he took. Dusk was approaching outside, and thus it was nearly time for bed. Ronald was terrified of the prospect of having to share his sleeping quarters, let alone his bed with this strange creature. As it was, the beast was in dire need of a bath, but the prince feared that the Snorkack might just claim they share that, too…
Ronald was so deep in thought that he almost missed the Snorkack speaking up once more.
"I have eaten enough and am now tired. Please carry me up to your room and make your four-poster bed ready, so we can both cuddle up into it."
Even though he had known it was coming, Ronald was going wide-eyed. The creature didn't actually mean to ruin the velvet curtains and silken sheets of his bed, did it? Ronald glanced expectantly at his parents, who surely would never allow this!
However, his father merely said, "He helped you when you were in trouble and you turn down his wish?"
Although Queen Molly was picking at the sleeve of her husband's robe, she did not intervene, giving her significant other free rein.
Cursing silently, yet fuming beyond belief, Ronald dragged the Crumple-Horned Snorkack along until he reached his bedroom where he instantly dropped onto the bed, trying to take his mind off the strange creature still crouching on the floor beside him. Still, Ronald wasn't able to sleep, tossing and turning, until he heard a grunt.
"I am tired and I want to sleep as comfortable as you," the crumple-horned beast claimed. "So pick me up, or I will tell your father."
Prince Ronald didn't want to give into blackmail, so he grabbed the Snorkack quite crudely by his arms, and all the while, the beast's previously limp horns were crumpling upwards in eager anticipation. Yet, Ronald didn't lift him up onto his bed, but threw him with all his might against the opposite wall.
"Will you be quiet now?" Ronald almost roared, as the creature collided with the wall.
His answer fell down onto the floor. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack had transformed, he was no longer a magical creature, but a -
Splatter.
Hermione Granger groaned in frustration. Of course, the chocolate ice cream had to fall onto the most exciting passage the exact moment she wanted to read it. Glad that she was finally of age and could perform magic outside of school, Hermione grabbed her wand and sopped up the ice cream that was already melting and threatening to spread all over the parchment.
Where was she cut off? Ah, there it was…
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack had transformed, he was no longer a magical creature, but a nobleman with raven-black hair and kind, emerald green eyes. Biting his lower lip, the stranger sneaked a look at Ronald, who was sitting still on his bed, mesmerised.
"I could think of a way to make me shut up," he smirked, lifting Prince Ronald's chin with one of his long fingers.
Ronald was highly stunned and scandalized at the same time and therefore didn't interfere, as the black-haired stranger claimed his lips.
Slightly frustrated, Hermione let the parchment drop onto her lap. After this passage, the story stopped. Now it was up to her to continue.
That's Luna all over, Hermione thought grinning. Keeping me in suspense until the very last second and cutting off at the most thrilling point!
They had been involved in this game for quite some time by now - their peculiar game that had started out at the end of last term when they had been huddled up in front of Snape's office, terrified. That night, Luna had appeared much calmer than Hermione, and all of sudden the Ravenclaw had begun to tell Hermione a fairy-tale - a tale she had almost certainly made up herself, Hermione supposed. Lost in the sound of Luna's whispered words, Hermione had too begun to feel a little more at ease. Later that night, Hermione had asked her if she knew about traditional muggle folk-tales as well. As the blonde Ravenclaw had said that she didn't, Hermione had promised to send her one of her old books of fairy-tales once she got home for the summer.
And so she had.
In the beginning, Luna had rewritten some of the tales so that they fit existing wizarding myths and sent them off to Hermione, but one day Luna had switched to writing her very own versions of the stories. Highly enthralled, Hermione had admitted that she herself surely lacked that kind of creative talent - but to her surprise, an amused Luna had replied that she merely had had to give it a try.
That had been when Luna had started to send only half a fairy-tale.
And at some point, things had gotten out of hand. Real people had fallen victim to their mutual mad mind - making the results more interesting than ever.
Her eyes gleaming with expectancy, Hermione rushed upstairs to her room, grabbing a quill and some fresh parchment. Once again, she'd have a rather pleasant afternoon…
As Prince Ronald came back to his senses, he flinched, shoving the former Snorkack away.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" he demanded determinedly.
Full of sympathy, the green-eyed king sat down beside Ronald and started enlightening him about his fate.
Hermione scrunched up the parchment with a sigh. Of course, this would have been the most sensible path the prince could have chosen, but unquestionably not the most interesting one.
This was a fable, after all, so things may very well be a little more - fabulous.
Prince Ronald came back to his senses quickly, feeling stunned and puzzled all at once. Ronald's lower lip, where he still felt the stranger's touch, trembled, his gaze wandering back and forth between the black-haired king in front of him and the wall he had just thrown the Snorkack against. What had happened?
So many questions were popping up in his mind, yet the prince was afraid they would come out as a grunt - reminiscent of the Snorkack sitting on the floor a moment ago. The stranger was now scrutinizing him, and Prince Ronald recognized the bold, bright spark of the peculiar creature's eyes that had previously caught his attention when he had first met him by the marsh.
"I'm so deep in your debt," the stranger suddenly spoke up, "and just as lost in your eyes that I won't ever take mine off of you." And all the while, he wasn't moving an inch, but kept kneeling in front of Ronald, their noses almost touching, whilst he was running his long fingers down Ronald's shoulders and arms. "You were the one to release me," he went on, "the one to free me from malicious King Malfoy's cruel curse keeping me away from my rightful throne. Only you were chosen to release me from my muddy imprisonment."
Prince Ronald tried hard to catch on with what the banned king at his feet was telling him, but was constantly distracted by the tingle the stranger's fingers were instigating on his silk-covered skin.
"It was your Snitch that freed me," the black-haired king carried on, and for a split second Ronald was sure his Snitch had actually joined them, its wings tickling the inside of his right wrist, but then he realised that it were the king's fingers painting nonsense patterns on his bare skin. "Isn't it wonderful," he whispered only for Ronald's ear to hear, "to have one's toy back - and at the same time have one's joy back?"
The designated king had scarcely uttered these words when his lips descended upon the prince's neck, making Ronald hastily reconsider his decision not to share his sleeping quarters tonight.
Then they fell asleep, peacefully entwined.
The next morning, the young king addressed Ronald's father, King Arthur, "I, King Harry, hereby ask you for your youngest son's hand, so I can return to my kingdom by dusk and introduce the arrangements for our wedding!"
Of course, King Harry wooed Arthur just as quickly as his son, and Arthur couldn't help but agree to this bond.
Later, as Prince Ronald spent a casual morning with his siblings for the first and last time in his life, two cracking sounds could be heard at The Burrow's gate.
Grinning, Hermione put her quill aside, feeling very much pleased with the result - and with the "side-effects" of their game: Passing a lot of information about muggle culture to Luna, who proved the natural Ravenclaw thirst for knowledge, and exploring her own creative skills - not in a didactic, but in a rather subtle manner.
This time, it would be up to Luna to finish the tale. Why shouldn't she turn the tables again? Up till now, Luna had been the one to choose the protagonists, whereas Hermione had been the one to conclude the story. Why not feed Luna her own lines once more?
Two days later, Hermione received Luna's answer. However, her response turned out not to be the third part of the fairy-tale, but a letter.
Luna wrote that Hermione would learn the ending in due course. They would meet at Bill and Fleur's wedding, find a quiet spot, and there, Hermione would see.
***
Hermione arrived at The Burrow a few days prior to the wedding, feeling undecided what she was anticipating more eagerly: the reunion with Harry and Ron, the wedding reception itself, or her meeting with Luna in-between.
As the wedding day was drawing nearer, Hermione repeatedly caught herself gaping a little too often - and far too intensely - at Harry and Ron and, as soon as the two crept away together, imagining scenarios her best friends were definitely not involved in once they were alone.
During the actual wedding, Hermione was scarcely able to talk to Luna, as the newlyweds caused so much hustle and bustle. Luna had greeted her with an unusually familiar hug, though, and they had been exchanging glances all through the wedding ceremony.
When the feast was finally coming to an end and the previously neatly organized sitting order in the Weasleys' garden had turned more and more into a lively muddle, Hermione at last found Luna, who was currently talking to Ginny.
Once Luna had spotted her, too, she winked at Hermione and sneaked into the house.
"Pardon me, I have to -" Hermione paused, taking another sip of champagne Fleur's parents had brought along, "fix my hair." After all, she had to find a way to tear herself away from her best friends. As Harry and Ron seemed to be much more enthralled by the Firewhisky than by her company anyway, she quickly tiptoed into the house.
Without spending much thought to where she was heading, Hermione found herself in front of Ron's room, the door standing a little ajar. However, her gut instinct proved to be right, as she could make out an ash-blonde shock of hair inside.
Determinedly, Hermione opened the door and was immediately welcomed by Luna's dreamy smile.
And on the blonde's lap lay a piece of parchment, waiting to be unfolded.
Without saying a word, Hermione joined her on the bed, and simultaneously they unfurled the parchment and started to read.
An enormous white carriage, drawn by four white golden Hippogriffs, had come to a halt in front of the castle's gate.
The carriage had been the reason for the first crack, and not only Arthur and Molly, but also Ronald and Harry were searching the cause for the second crack in vain.
The Hippogriffs had barely come to rest when the just as black-haired servant of the young king emerged from the carriage, raised his pointed hat and bowed to the royal party.
"Sirius, is it the carriage that's breaking apart?"
"No, my Lord, the carriage it's not. It was one of the chains not only surrounding my heart, but keeping me in captivity, transfigured like you, living as a dog, almost dying in agony, till your curse has been broken, and your heart mended again."
Just then, they heard another cracking sound, and out of nowhere, a piece of parchment appeared in Sirius's hands, which he presented to King Harry right away.
At once, the king began to read aloud:
"Various versions exist of this tale, arising from all kinds of quills and hands. One thing they all have in common." At this point, King Harry fixed his eyes upon the whole crowd, since Prince Ronald and his siblings had arrived as well; but apparently, the words felt thick on his tongue, as he carried on rather hesitantly. "One thing they all have in common, but what is it? Can frog and owl maybe help you out?"
Hermione glanced at Luna. They were both still holding the parchment, but Hermione took no notice of that; instead, she was busy being enthralled by the playful gleam in Luna's eyes.
"Just take a look," Luna offered, her voice far more teasing than usual.
Frog and owl… Hermione wondered, her gaze moving restlessly through Ron's room. Frog and owl!
Ron's tiny owl Pigwidgeon was sitting in his cage on a cupboard, and precisely next to him sat a grumpy frog, staring rather moodily in her direction, and between them lay - a roll of parchment?
"Could that be -?" Luna's voice cut her off.
Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed the parchment, unrolling it the moment Luna seized it, too. Hastily, Hermione let her eyes wander across the parchment, instantly coming to a halt.
Undoubtedly, this was in turn Ron's crawly and Harry's curvy, a little childlike handwriting, but it couldn't be true… mustn't be true… Especially one particular passage caught Hermione's attention.
"I am tired and I want to sleep as comfortable as you," the small Mooncalf claimed. "So pick me up, or I will tell your father."
Princess Hermione didn't want to give into blackmail, so she grabbed the Mooncalf quite crudely by its spindly legs, and all the while, the creature's enormous flat feet were curling upwards in eager anticipation. Yet, Hermione didn't lift it up onto her bed, but threw it with all her might against the wall.
"Will you be quiet now?" Hermione almost roared, as the creature collided with the wall.
Her answer fell down onto the floor. The Mooncalf had transformed, it was no longer a magical creature, but a blonde, fair-skinned lady with kind, round blue eyes, wearing posh garments. Biting her lower lip, the blonde lady sneaked a look at Hermione, who was sitting still on her bed, mesmerised.
"I could think of a way to make us both shut up," she smirked, lifting Princess Hermione's chin with one of her fingers.
As the blonde lady's mouth descended upon hers, Hermione was far too lost in the feeling of the lady's soft lips to feel stunned or scandalized. Therefore, she gave her full rein.
Ron and Harry had done what? Had they really made up this text about Luna and her? That was simply outrageous! Hermione, fuming inside, was about to ask for Luna's opinion when the Ravenclaw beat her to it.
"The ending, that's what matters now! How could you forget?" the blonde interjected, batting an eyelid at Hermione.
Hermione forced herself not to take a glimpse at the middle, but instead examined the final passages.
"Various versions exist of this tale, arising from all kinds of quills and hands. One thing they all have in common." At this point, Lady Luna fixed her eyes upon the whole crowd, since Princess Hermione had arrived as well; but apparently, the words felt thick on her tongue, as she carried on rather hesitantly. "One thing they all have in common, and that is a kiss."
Slightly puzzled and, for the most part, baffled by the intense flutter in her stomach, Hermione glanced up from the parchment - and ended up gazing directly at Luna. Somehow, when they were so eagerly reading the tale, their hands had gotten closer, their fingers almost entwining now.
"A kiss," Luna whispered, looking straight into Hermione's eyes.
"A kiss," Harry softly mouthed into Ron's ear, watching the two girls through the slightly open door to Ron's room.
Harry was almost panting onto Ron's neck now, causing a rather pleasant tingle, and the redhead now wasn't so sure his knees were merely shaking due to the immense amount of Firewhisky they had already downed. Then, Harry's right hand descended onto his waist, and Ron was certain it wasn't due to the alcohol.
"What're you thinking about? You have such a faraway look in your eyes," Harry snickered, interrupting Ron's not so coherent thoughts, and placed his left hand on Ron's waist, too, drawing him closer.
Ron was able to smell the Firewhisky in Harry's breath and just now wondered why the corridor wasn't already swimming before his eyes when he could taste Firewhisky again. Harry's lips tasted of the burning liquid, of something indefinable sweet, and above all, of a burning more, more of these lips, this gentle closeness and sweet dizziness. Harry's lips opened little by little, his head falling to the side, hands wandering up Ron's back, and Ron couldn't help but lean into him, letting himself be lightly pushed against the wall, until finally their tongues met, entwined, and came apart yet again. Ron no longer wasted a thought about the sweet dizziness; now, he just felt it.
After endless hours of kissing - though Ron assumed it had only lasted a few seconds in reality thanks to their drunken daze -, they separated again.
"Do you suppose," Ron chuckled, trying to keep his voice low, "that Luna and Hermione would have as much fun watching us as we had observing them?"
*** Fin ***