WARNING:

Weirdness up ahead.

Happy reading.

The Goblin Prince

"Grandfather, Grandfather! Tell us the story of the Goblin Prince!"

The old man sighed and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. Blasted things--he used to not need glasses, but with old age his vision had worsened to the point where he was almost blind. Before answering, he took a sip of his nightly brandy, and then stared down at the little imps that were his grandchildren. "The story of the Goblin Prince?" he questioned. "Surely not--you've heard it a thousand times! Besides, I don't think your grandmother would appreciate it if I told you that story."

"Why?" the littlest one asked, staring up at his grandfather with round blue eyes.

"Because Grandmother doesn't like goblins," the older boy said. "Isn't that right, Grandfather?"

"Oh, no, no, no," the old man said. "I happen to know that your grandmother likes goblins very much. It's just that this particular story makes her sad."

"Go on, tell them, Dad," the boys' mother piped up from her place on the sofa. "Mum's not around, you've got plenty of time."

The old man sighed again. Cissy was right, of course. She was sharp as a tack, and had a cunning to match her intelligence. Nothing like her mother, and only partly like her father. "I suppose what your grandmother doesn't know won't hurt her," he told the two little children. They squealed in delight and sat down by his feet, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

The old man cleared his throat, and then launched into his story. "Many years ago--near on a seventy years now, I should think--a goblin prince was born. From the moment the prince took his first breath, he knew that his life would be one of turmoil. He knew that he would have to make some very bad choices if he was expected to get by, and that some of those choices would haunt him until his dying day.

"You see, the goblin prince was born at a very bad time, for the goblins were at war. It was a pointless war, if truth be told--the goblins were fighting the humans simply because the goblins thought they were superior to--"

"What does sup--sup--that 's' word mean?" the youngest one asked.

"It means 'better than'," Cissy said. "Don't interrupt your grandfather."

"Yes, well," the old man continued, "the goblins were fighting the humans simply because they thought they were better than the humans--"

"Why did they think they were better than the humans?" the older boy asked.

"Connor, what did I just say about interrupting?" Cissy snapped.

Connor grimaced. "Sorry, Mum."

"The goblins weren't really better than the humans," the old man said, feeling irritated that he couldn't finish his story in peace. "They just thought they were, because the goblins wanted to be the best at everything. So anyway, the goblin prince grew up in the middle of a war. Because he was a goblin, naturally he wanted the goblins to win this war. He was very smug about it, as he was sure that the goblins were going to win.

"Now, when the goblin prince came of age--or rather, very close to it--he was given an assignment by the leader of the goblin forces. If the goblin prince was smart, he would have refused this assignment, but since the goblin prince wanted very much to help the goblins win the war, he would do whatever was asked of him, even if it meant harming and killing innocent people."

"But he didn't kill people!" Connor said.

"Don't ruin the story," the old man said. "But you are right--he didn't kill any people. He came very, very close, though. When it came right down to it, when the goblin prince stood face to face with the human he was supposed to kill, he realized that he couldn't do it. It wasn't because he was weak, he just wasn't evil enough to kill. Even so, he feared that he would be punished for failing to kill the human, so he ran away.

"Eventually the other goblins found the prince, and they locked him away. They tortured him for failing in his task, but they wouldn't kill him."

"Why not?" Michael, the little one, asked.

"Because they knew that the prince would be happier dead than he would be alive," the old man said solemnly.

"Why would he be happier dead?" Cissy asked, surprising the old man. She had heard this story many times--he always used to tell it to her when she was a little girl.

"Because in his mind, he had failed the goblin race," the old man answered. "Because in his mind, he deserved to be dead."

When the three of them remained silent, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. "But the goblin prince's story is far from over. He soon hardened to the prison life and no longer cared what the other goblins did to him. He lived that way for months until one day, another being joined him in his cell. A human that the goblins had captured, a human very close to the man the goblins were fighting. The goblin prince knew this human, and didn't like her at all, and so was not happy about being locked up with her.

"The human was a witch, and happened to be the smartest witch of the age, and she was angry at being imprisoned. She attempted to talk to the goblin prince several times, but he shunned her, making her even more angry. She eventually stopped trying to make friends with the goblin prince, and started trying to find a way out of their prison. One night, several weeks after she had first been captured, she found a way out. Even though the goblin prince still ignored her, and even though she was still angry with him, she let him escape with her, and took him someplace where he would be safe."

"She must have been a nice lady," Michael said.

"Oh, indeed, she was a very nice lady," his grandfather murmured. "On their journey back to her home, the goblin prince warmed to the witch. She had, after all, saved his life. Eventually, they became friends because they had a common bond--they were both on the run from the goblins, and they both wanted to do everything they could to make sure the goblins lost the war. And then, much to their dismay, they became more than friends."

"What's this?" she asked with a smile, eyeing the wildflower he had just put into her hand.

"It's nothing," he muttered. She gave him a pointed look. "All right, it's just--I wanted to thank you for saving my life back there. There's no telling what they would have done to me had you not found a way out."

To his amusement, she blushed and looked away from him.

"You really are very pretty," he told her as they walked along.

She scoffed. "It took you this long to notice?"

"No," he said. "I've always thought you were pretty, it's just that..."

"We're too different," she said quietly, and he could have sworn her voice shook.

"Yeah, we're too different."

"Eventually the goblin prince and the witch came to a small village where some friends of the witch's lived. The witch thought her friends would be happy that she was back, safe and sound, but they couldn't see past their hatred of the goblin prince to be anything except angry."

"What were you thinking? He's probably led them straight to us!"

"Have you lost your mind? He's not to be trusted!"

"I can't believe you would actually help him!"

"Though the humans weren't happy, they allowed the goblin prince to stay with them. The witch and the goblin prince grew closer and closer until they finally decided that they should get married. They promised each other that after the war was over, they would be married and live happily ever after."

The old man stopped, and his audience could see water pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"But they didn't live happily ever after," Cissy observed.

"No, they didn't," the old man agreed. "The final battle of the war finally came, and the goblin prince fought on the side of the humans. Well, as you can imagine, that didn't sit too well with the goblins. They hit the humans with everything they had, fueled by their anger at the goblin prince and his witch. The humans were losing horribly, and eventually the goblins won. The goblin leaders were so happy that they forgave the goblin prince and let him live in his palace again. He married a goblin princess and had a family of his own. And now I think it's time that you went to bed--"

"But Grandfather, you forgot something!" Connor cried, appalled that his grandfather would leave out the most important part of the story.

"I did?" the old man asked, scatching his head in puzzlement.

"You didn't tell what happened to the witch," Cissy told him.

"Yeah, why didn't the goblin prince marry the witch like he promised?" Connor asked.

"You know why he didn't marry the witch," the old man said rather more harshly than he had intended to. "I've told you this story before."

"Come on, Dad, don't be a grouch," Cissy said. "Just tell them what happened to the witch."

The old man let out a breath, trying to calm himself. "Very well," he conceded. "During the final battle the witch was cornered by a group of particularly nasty goblins, and she--"

"I think that's enough!" a sharp voice penetrated the atmosphere of the room.

"Pansy, dear, don't be--" the old man started, but his wife cut him off.

"I think it's time you took the boys to bed, Cissy," Pansy said coldly, interrupting her husband.

"Mum--"

"Now, Cissy!"

Cissy stared coldly at her mother before taking the hands of both her sons. "Come along, boys," she said. "Let's give your grandparents some time alone."

Connor and Michael allowed themselves to be reluctantly pulled from the room. Pansy slammed the door shut behind them, and then rounded on him. "I thought I told you never to mention her in my house again, Draco," she said in icy tones.

"I was just telling a story, Pansy," Draco sighed wearily.

"Don't play games with me, Draco, we both know who that story's about," Pansy quipped.

Draco stood--even in old age he was still tall and practically towered over his wife. "It's just a story, Pansy," he said. "Connor and Michael requested it--was I supposed to refuse my grandchildren a story?"

"That particular story, yes," Pansy ground out. "How do you think it makes me feel every time I hear you tell that?" she asked him. "For years I've had to live with you knowing that you still loved her. I'm your wife, Draco--I would just like to go by one day without you mentioning her. Is that so much to ask?"

"When have I ever blatantly mentioned her to you, Pansy?" Draco asked.

"Every time you look at me and see right through me," she told him. "I trust you'll find the guest room comfortable, Draco--it's where you'll be sleeping for a long time."

Without another word, she turned and left him alone in the room. Heaving a great sigh, he sat back down in front of the fire and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the chair. She was right, he hated to admit it. He did still love her. He had never been able to give Pansy the love and attention she needed--nay, deserved--because his heart had always belonged to someone else.

Feeling suddenly restless, he opened his eyes and stood, walking over to the desk. He reached down to the bottom drawer and pulled it open. Shoving some papers aside, he pulled out an old picture frame. The girl in the picture was young and vibrant-looking. She twirled around and every once in a while smiled and waved at him. He sat down in the desk chair and stared at the picture, just watching her. Yes, he was still very much in love with her, and every time he thought about what had happened to her he wanted to weep--to crawl up in a dark corner and never come out.

The door creaked open, and he knew that if it was Pansy coming back to yell at him he was definitely in trouble.

"Dad?" Cissy's voice sent a wave of relief through him. He didn't answer her, just continued to look at the picture. Cissy came to stand behind him and watched the woman in the picture twirl happily, oblivious, it seemed, to the hardships of the world around her. "Is that your witch?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cissy," he said without any conviction.

"Come on, Dad," she said. "I know the goblin prince in the story is you. I've known for years. Besides, that looks nothing like Mum when she was younger."

He sighed. "Yes, if you must know, that's her."

"She's very beautiful," Cissy conceded. "What really happened to her, Dad?"

"You've heard the story, Cissy, you tell me," Draco muttered.

"I know that's not what really happened," she said. "I'm not stupid, Dad. You loved her very much, and I know she must have loved you back. In the story the witch, after being captured by goblins, agreed never to speak to the prince again, so the goblins let her go, and she broke it off with the prince, and they never saw each other again. But that's not how it ended. So what really happened to the witch, Dad?"

Draco sighed again, knowing that Cissy, with her inquisitive nature, would not rest until she knew the whole truth. "Well," he said, "if you must know..."

Someone grabbed Hermione's robes and pulled her back behind a piece of debris just as the green jet of light that was whizzing towards her hit the wall, sending bits of stone flying everywhere. She turned to thank her rescuer, and her face lit up when she saw it was him.

"Draco, thank Merlin!" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him.

"Hermione, listen to me," Draco said, putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back so that he could look into her eyes. "You've got to get away from here. Just run, and don't stop running until morning. If I survive, I'll come find you. We'll leave together."

"No!" she said. "I won't leave you, not in this terrible place. There must be another way."

"There isn't!" he told her. "If you're going to make it you need to leave now."

"Draco, if I leave and you stay then they'll kill you. We both know it--He hates you for escaping, and He'll kill you before this is over with." He looked away from her, not wanting her to see the water that formed at the corners of his eyes. He knew she was right; even if she did escape he wouldn't, and they would never be together.

"Draco, I know a way to get you out of this."

He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, you know a way to get me out of this? What about you?"

"I'll be happy just knowing you made it safely," she said, her voice shaking.

"Hermione, I--"

"You have to kill me," she interrupted.

He balked, the color draining from his face. "Excuse me?"

"You have to kill me, Draco," she reiterated. "If you do then He might overlook your escape and even your failure. If you kill me, you might prove yourself enough so that He'll want to keep you alive."

"Hermione, I won't kill you!" Draco said incredulously. "I love you!"

"I love you, too!" she said. "Which is why you have to do this. Kill me, Draco."

"No!" He shook his head at her, not able to look her in the eyes.

"Kill me, Draco," she said again, this time more forcefully.

"I won't!" he shouted at her. The next moment he felt a sting as she slapped him.

"Kill me!" she screeched. "They'll do it anyway if you don't! My side has lost, the Death Eaters are winning this war, even if Harry does manage to kill Voldemort you'll still be victorious. Kill me before--"

The rest of her sentence was cut off, as at that moment Draco pulled her to him in an earth-shattering kiss. Her hands went up to his shoulders, and then wound their way into his shaggy platinum hair. His arms went around her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn't any space between them. She never even noticed when one hand left her body, or when the wooden tip of his wand pressed against her temple. "Goodbye, Hermione," he said against her lips, and then it was over.

"So the goblin prince killed the only woman he had ever loved," Draco said, the firelight from the hearth reflected in the tears that collected in his eyes. "Her prediction had been right, of course--when the others had found out what he had done, he was redeemed in their eyes and everyone lived happily ever after, except, of course, for the prince himself."

Cissy wiped a tear from her eye and rested a hand on her father's shoulder. "Dad, I'm so sorry, if I had known I wouldn't have asked."

"It's quite all right, Cissy," Draco assured her, standing. "Now, I think I'll take my brandy and head up to the guest room. According to your mother I'm going to be there for quite some time."

A/N:

This is probably the single most weird thing I've ever written, but I dunno...I kind of like it.

In a really weird way, that is.

--Paige--