Summary: rewritten A parody Cinderella story. AU.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Cinderella story, or anything in this except the idea and the Orange Plague, named after Ruth's favorite color, whose birthday was around the time when I was writing that part. (Yep, along with getting a present from me, my friends get a plague named for them, too!). I am not making any money from this, either, because if I was, this chapter would have been up a long time ago!

The paraphrased line in the last chapter is, "Yes, I'll be remembered in history as the woman who locked a door!" That's paraphrased from, "Yes, I will be remembered in history as the man who opened a door!"

I also stole a line from Robin Hood: Men in Tights in this chapter. It's the 'yea' (pronounced like 'yay,' and not to be confused with 'yeah') part.

Author's Note: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I've just been somewhat stressed with school lately and with life in general. This hasn't exactly been the…perkiest time in my life. I've been more bitter and cynical lately. It's probably better that I didn't write this during that time because I figure if I did, I probably would have had all the characters die gruesome deaths in some feeble attempt to get back at the people who annoy me, which would have done nothing since I know for a fact that they don't like Harry Potter (or reading in general…not that I think they can in the first place), and certainly wouldn't be reading fanfiction. But, not that school's out for a while, I don't have to deal with them! (Not until August, anyway.) Yay!

Hope you enjoy this last chapter!

That ride was the longest twenty minutes of Pansy's life. First, Mill drove them into a tree. Then they almost drove off the rode and ran into the carriage that she was trying not to hit. When they finally arrived at the palace, Mill almost ran them into the carriage in front of them.

When the carriage finally jerked to a stop, Pansy kicked the door right off the hinges (not such an amazing feat, considering they were only held together with Velcro) and ran away as fast as she could. Unaccustomed to four-inch heels, Pansy ran about a foot before spraining her ankle and landing flat on her face.

"Oh no!" Mill screamed in panic. "You didn't rip the leather, did you?" She looked over the dress. "Oh, good. You didn't."

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Pansy snapped sarcastically as she limped as fast as she could (which wasn't very fast) away from Mill and the carrot-shaped carriage.

After Pansy entered the ballroom, she decided to look around a bit. In a secluded hallway, she saw a beautiful, ornate, hand-carved mahogany chair that was at least a hundred years old. Seeing such a beautiful chair almost brought tears to Pansy's eyes. Almost. Once Pansy got over the shock of seeing such a valuable object, she headed towards the chair, grinning evilly.

It took her quite a while to get over the other side of the ballroom because of her shoes, but when she finally made it, she wasted no time in moving it further down the hallway so she would not be seen.

When she was sure no one would see her, she took Jack out from a pocket and started hacking away at the chair.

In the ballroom, Prince Crabbe was not having much fun. Every single one of his siblings—even Myrtle, who was dead!—had someone to dance with except him. All he could do was stand there and try to get close enough to a girl to ask her to dance.

First, he tried to approach a girl named Parvati, but she kept backing away until she literally bumped into Remus Lupin, who she promptly asked to dance, and without waiting for an answer, dragged off the dance floor. Then he tried to ask a girl named Lavender, but she mumbled something about having to wash her hair and ran into the powder room.

He searched the ballroom for a girl to dance with. To his left he saw Ron Weasley talking with his sister Hermione. To his right he saw his mother and he briefly considered asking her to dance, just to show people how good he a dancer he was, but decided against it. She was busy talking with the Messenger Boy and glaring at her husband, who was dancing with a balloon. Crabbe sighed and continued his search.

There's one! Crabbe thought as he spotted Blaise Zabini standing all alone next to the refreshment table. He walked towards her.

"Oh! He's approaching another one!" Ron Weasley exclaimed, watching Prince Crabbe approach another girl.

"Who is she?" asked Hermione. "She seems familiar, but I don't recall her name."

"Countess Blaise Zabini. She has been a countess for about ten months. Her parents and older sister died of the Orange Plague, leaving her the only heir. I don't think she wanted to become Countess."

"Ah, now I remember her. I think she glared throughout the whole funeral. Anyway, back to business. What do you think she'll do?"

"Well, from what I remember, she's rather intelligent and liked to rub it in other people's faces. She's quite assertive, too, so she won't be too shy to taunt him. I bet five Galleons she'll raise one eyebrow, insult his intelligence using big words he won't understand, and then walk away. What about you?"

"I don't think she'll do all that. From her glare at the funeral and from what I remember about her at Hogwarts, I can tell she's a cold person. I bet five Galleons she'll just glare at him with enough malice that he'll be the one running away this time."

Ron and Hermione watched as Prince Crabbe approached Blaise.

Prince Crabbe approached Blaise Zabini.

"May I—" Blaise glared at him. "—have this…" He gulped nervously. "…dance?"

Blaise didn't respond. Well, not verbally, anyway. She just glowered at him with all her might.

"Er—I'll take that as a 'no.' Er—well, I have to go now," he stammered, feeling rather uneasy under her bitter gaze. "I'll see you later—or not, if you don't want to, which you probably don't—and, um—I have to go!" He dashed off in the opposite direction and continued down one of the hallways. As he rushed across the ballroom, he noticed some sort of money exchange going on between a redheaded boy and his sister Hermione, who had a grin on her face.

It took her a while, but Pansy finally hacked the chair into small slivers. It had taken her longer than she had anticipated because the chair was a lot more durable than it had looked.

Those carpenters a hundred years ago sure made sturdy furniture, Pansy thought as she admired her handiwork. But not sturdy enough. She chuckled evilly and massaged her sore arm muscles.

Destroying expensive furniture took a lot more energy out of Pansy than she had originally thought. Deciding to "rest her eyes" for a few minutes before reentering the ballroom, she sat down on a stone bench across the hall and closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall.

Crabbe was pretty sure that Blaise wasn't following him, but didn't want to take any chances. The last time he took a chance he was grounded for three months by his mother for "terrorizing the zookeeper." All he had wanted to do was pet the black-and-orange-striped kitten. How was he supposed to know that the cat was extremely temperamental and had razor-sharp claws?

He decided to sit for a little while on one of the benches in the hall before continuing his search. However, as he approached the bench, he found it already occupied by a girl wearing a pink dress. He sighed. Today was not his day.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" he asked politely. She didn't stir. "Excuse me? Hello? Hello? Hello!" At this, she jumped up, startled, and started to punch him, but luckily she caught herself before her fist made contact with his face.

"Sorry," she muttered, obviously quite embarrassed. "Reflex."

He barely remembered to acknowledge her apology, as he was trying to get over the initial shock. He did manage to look her in the eyes while he accepted her apology and noticed that they were amazingly similar to the eyes of the temperamental kitten.

"Anyway, what do you want?"

"Want?" What did he want? Oh, right. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"What do I care? Go ahead," she said as she sat back down.

As he sat down, he noticed a pile of chopped up wood. He started to ask what had happened, but he decided he didn't want to know, remembering the girl's violent nature.

"So," he said to break the uncomfortable silence. "What's your name?"

"What? Oh, Pansy. What's yours?" she said and surprised herself by hoping she sounded polite.

"I'm Prince Crabbe," he said as his chest puffed with pride.

"How interesting."

"I know, isn't it?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. His tone wasn't sarcastic, but she felt the need to make sure. "Are you being sarcastic?" Ninety-five percent of what came out of Pansy's mouth was sarcastic, and she loved sarcasm, but she did not, and would not, tolerate sarcasm directed at her, which was one of several hundred reasons as to why she hated Penelope.

"No. I'm usually only sarcastic when talking about my sisters."

"Sisters?"

"Yes. I have four: Myrtle, Alicia, Angelina, and Hermione."

"Ah."

"Well, I better be getting back," he said. A thought struck him. "Would you like to dance?"

"Alright," she said and they headed back to the ballroom.

They ended up dancing together for the next five songs.

As the fifth song ended, the clock began to chime eleven o' clock.

Now why does eleven o' clock seem to be significant to me? Pansy though to herself as the clock chimed. Oh, yeah, Mill said I'm supposed to leave.

"I have to go," she told him.

"Why? There's still an hour left."

"Tell that to my no-wit, fashionably deprived Fairy-God-Elf-Mother," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Anyway, I have to go." She turned and started to walk away.

"Wait! Will you marry me?"

"What?" That came out of nowhere.

"Will you marry me? I'm supposed to pick a bride by midnight tonight, and so far you're the only girl I've been able to ask."

She started to decline, but then she got to thinking. If she married the prince, then she'd have to live at the castle. And if she lived at the castle, she wouldn't have to live with Penelope anymore. Even better than that was that she'd be surrounded by many destroyable things every day. Even better, she'd be a princess and the future queen and could one day order Penelope's execution. Yes, she wanted to marry him. Mwahahaha.

"Yes, let's get married."

Crabbe looked surprised. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes."

"Great! Let's get married right now!"

"What about the preparations? Won't your parents want to be there or at least know about it?"

"No, they won't care!" he said excitedly. "They'll be too thrilled about my being married to mind!"

"Alright, if you don't think they'll mind…"

"They won't! Come on!" he shouted with glee and practically dragged her towards the door.

Princess Hermione watched as her brother sped past her, taking some hideous girl with him.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

Crabbe glared at her. "Why do you care? Besides, you're the walking encyclopedia. You figure it out," he sneered and continued walking.

"Oh, dear," she said to herself. "Tomorrow's going to be an interesting day."

"Do you, Prince Crabbe, take Pansy to be your wife? To have and to hold, for rich and poorer, and so on and so forth?" the man asked him.

"Okey dokey," Crabbe said happily.

"And do you, Pansy, promise to do all the stuff I just said? Yea or nay?"

Pansy frowned. "Which one means 'yes'?"

The guy sighed, frustrated. "Yea."

"In that case, yea."

"Ok, you're married. Remember to pay your £30 on the way out," he said as the newlyweds walked happily away.

Pansy and Crabbe walked happily to the castle (after they paid their £30) to tell Queen Ginny and King Goyle that they got married.

And they lived happily ever after…

Or, rather, they lived happily until they got to the castle.

A/N: You know, I've just realized something. In this story, Crabbe is the heir to the throne, and therefore likely to become king one day, making him King Crabbe. Now, if I change the plotline and make them from Alaska, he'll be the Alaskan King Crabbe, which I find hilarious for some reason. I really need more humor in my life…

shameful plugs So, I'm thinking of writing another fairy tale parody fic for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (is it 'dwarfs' or 'dwarves'? Word won't tell me) but I'm not sure if I want to make it an HP fanfic or make it original and post it on Fiction Press. What the heck, I'll make it original. It fits better that way. If anyone's interested, my pen name on Fiction Press is Emmy, but I know it's probably not going to up for a while.

I'm also thinking of making another for The Wizard of Oz, which I know will be for HP. I think I'll be writing this after the one I've already mentioned, since I already have the basic plan for the other. /shameful plugs

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this fic!

Wishing You Prosperity and Pizza,

Queen Emmy of Monkeys
(Formerly known as Emmy Weezer, and formerly more commonly known as Emmy.)

"I told him about Louis Sixteenth that got his head chopped off in France long time ago; and about his little boy the dolphin, that would 'a' been king, but they took him and shut him up in a jail, and some say he died there." —Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain