Once upon a time, in a land a hop and skip away from "Happy Endings", there was a kingdom bordered on the east, west, and south by mountains, and to the north, water. There lived a kind, homely, warm queen by the name of Molly Weasley in this fertile kingdom. She adored and was in turn adored by her subjects. She was married to the good and righteous King Arthur, who had a kind heart, despite his somewhat bumbling manner. The King and Queen had seven strong, handsome, red-headed boys, but they both longed for a little girl, pale as snow, with blood red hair, to call their own. Their wish was granted one sweltering summer, when right on the dot, at noon, the Queen gave birth to a beautiful little girl, pale as snow, with blood red-hair. The King and Queen rejoiced and thanked Merlin for their fortune and decided to name their daughter, Ginevra Snow Weasley, Ginevra after the juniper berry, for her blood-red hair, and Snow because of her milky-white skin color.

After the Queen gave birth to Snow, she was overcome by a terrible disease that stripped the flesh from her bones and took the light from her eyes. She died a week after giving birth to the newborn. The King wallowed in grief and his sons fled from the kingdom that reminded them of their mother that was so cruelly taken away from them, all but one, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Even though he was consumed by the same heartache that plagued his father and brothers, he resolutely stayed for he loved his only sister unconditionally, and he feared of what would happen to the newborn if he left her fate to be determined by the cruel hands of time. The Kingdom wept in sorrow, consumed by sadness. The flowers wilted, the rains stopped, slowly the land turned dry and barren, bearing no fruit or vegetables. The people slowly left in droves, seeking a better life in the kingdom to the east of the mountains, the kingdom of Lord Voldemort.

Seven, long, harsh winters passed by in a flurry of ice-cold wind, chilling to the bone. The kingdom had wasted away to nothing by this point. The few citizens that still remained only remained so for the sake of their King, their Prince, and their Snow White Princess. Snow was one of the only few, bright and beautiful things that the kingdom could still proudly boast of. Her beauty, even at the young age of seven, was talked about far and wide. Her bright demeanor, scarlet red-hair, and her twinkling, hazel eyes were a bright attraction that drew people to her. She was always seen smiling, and singing as she skipped around the castle, her high childish voice igniting a fire, filled with the gleam of hope, in the heart of anyone that stopped to listen to her. Alas, Snow could not stop the curse that seemed to have befallen the castle and the few occupants of the Kingdom died one winter, all frozen to death in their unprotected homes. The only ones that still remained in the Kingdom were the King, Prince, and Princess, along with the cook, Dobby, and their loyal adviser, Stan Shunpike.

Three more winters passed by, each colder than the last, when, rather unexpectedly, there came a visitor knocking on the door.

"Knock, Knock," The door moaned in agony as its half-frozen knocker was thudded loudly against the door.

Stan, who had been passing by, blinked in astonishment, half believing that he was imagining the sound.

"Knock, Knock," The knocker yet again thudded against the door, each knock successively louder than the last.

Stan, hurried to the door and creaked it open just a crack, squinting against the frigid wind to see the blurry figure outside, "Who comes here?" he yelled out, putting his weight behind the door to keep the wind from blowing its way in.

"It is I, Narcissa. I am the famed Witch of the Northern Isles, I have come to save your Kingdom." came the frigid reply.

The adviser hurried to open the door further, ushering a woman with pale, almost white-blonde hair, and a gown made of iridescent icicles, into the castle.

"I have heard of tales of your greatness, your highness." Stan babbled like a sycophant, as he led the witch to the throne room to request an audience with the King, "You had almost become a legend in this part of the world your highness. Some people didn't even believe that you existed anymore. In fact-", he broke off with a strangled choke as a thin, white hand closed around his throat.

"I don't tolerate incessant babbling, do you understand?" The witch coolly told the adviser, "Do your job and show me to the throne room."

Stan gave a strangled nod, before the witch carelessly released him and left him to recuperate on the ground, massaging his throat in agony.

"Blimey, she's got spirit, ain't she?" he commented sarcastically to himself, rubbing his bruised throat. He hurried off the ground and followed the witch, who seemed to need no direction as she expertly took turns around the corridors on her way to the Throne room.

After the arrival of the Queen of the Northern Isles, true to her word, the Kingdom slowly started thriving again, the lands thawed, the ice melted, and the people crept back to the once more fertile valley.

King Arthur was struck by the beauty and goodness that he saw emanating from the heart of Narcissa and he realized that he had fallen in love with her. King Arthur wed Narcissa, the Witch of the Northern Isles, one fine spring, when Snow was twelve summers old and Prince Ronald twenty-two summers old. Everything seemed to be well in the Kingdom once again and the people all loved Queen Narcissa as they had loved Queen Molly, all but one citizen, Stan Shunpike, the adviser to the King. He quite vividly remembered the cruelty and hostility that the Queen had treated him with and he remained ever watchful for the other shoe to drop, and drop it did.

One fine summer day, a few weeks before the eighteenth birthday of Snow White, Queen Narcissa tapped her magic pensieve, whose name was Draco, with her wand and asked it the question that she asked every single day, "Pensieve, Pensieve, on the pedestal, who in this land is fairest of them all?"

The magic pensieve replied almost apologetically, his fair white hair drooping in apprehension for the fallout that would be sure occur, "My queen the fairest of them all is none other than Snow Weasley, your step daughter."

The Queen gaped in fury, unable to believe that the pensieve was telling the truth. She asked it the same question, and again the answer remained the same. The Queen was unable to quell the jealousy that flared in her heart as she realized that she had been bested by a mere slip of a girl. She planned and plotted of a way to insure that her beauty was the only true beauty in the land. She finally came up with a plan so cunning, so devious, so hateful that it simply cannot be penned on paper.

Snow ran with her heart pounding in her throat, fear clawing its way up her body, her lungs burning in agony. The forest seemed to be against her as the trees clawed at her face and hands and the roots did their best to trip her, but Snow continued running valiantly, spurred on by her fear and will to survive. Tears were ripped out of her eyes as she tried to unsuccessfully stifle them, but try as she might, she could not contain them and no one with a heart would ever dare to deny her this last weakness, for she had watched the only brother that she had ever known brutally die in front of her eyes.

She swiped a hand at her face and finally slowed her pace down to a jog as the stitch in her side increased with every step that she took. Finally, she could take no more and she stopped with a ragged breath at the edge of a clearing and dropped to the ground with a choked sob. She stayed prostrate on the ground, unable to muster the strength to get up until night befell the clearing. She slept fitfully and was woken up by the sound of a cheerful whistle. She jerked awake and crouched on the ground, her ears cocked for any noise. All was silent for a moment before the whistling came once again, to the left of her. She turned her head that way, frozen between fear and apprehension. Out of the clearing burst the strangest looking men that she had ever seen. There were six of them, five of them with the same hue of red hair that she possessed and one with inky black hair, all carrying an ax, their faces stained with soot, yet strangely enough they all had a smile on their faces. They almost looked like, well, the only word that she could think of was...home. They reminded her of home, a home that she could have had.

She watched uncertainly as they trooped through the clearing, torn between wanting to call out to them and fearful of what would happen if she did. The decision was made for her when one of the men, the one with inky black hair spotted her lying on the ground.

"Hey, are you ok, miss?" he concernedly asked her, stopping to peer at her body, which was hard to see in the dim light. The other red-headed men also stopped in the clearing, looking over at her curiously.

"I-I'm," Snow stuttered out, unable to give an accurate reply.

The man moved closer to her and when he saw her state he looked at her in concern, "You don't look alright Miss. Why don't you come out from under the there ?" he kindly said, stooping to reach a hand towards her.

She uncertainly nodded her head and reached out one trembling hand towards her. She put her small, pale, dirt-stained hand into his large, warm hands and was cautiously pulled out of the thicket that she had been hidden behind.

The man pulled her to her feet and then gave her a small smile, careful not to scare her with sudden movements, "What's your name, Miss?"

"Ginny," she stuttered out, looking fearfully between him and the other men that had crowded around her. She didn't offer them her real name because she was rather afraid of how far the word of her hunt had spread and she wasn't quite sure that she rusted these strange men yet.

"Ginny, that is a pretty name isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, talking to her like she was a small animal that needed to be coaxed out of her shell.

She nodded her head, her fear slowly ebbing away to be replaced with annoyance as the man continued talking.

"Well, Ginny, are you alright, do you think you might need help finding your way home to your parents?" he asked her.

"No," she replied shortly, "I am perfectly fine, thank you. I was just wandering around the woods in the middle of the night for a picnic." she sarcastically said, her words bolstered by adrenalin and grief.

The man blinked a little at her sudden fierceness, but then grinned a bit at her words, "Well, if you need a warm bed to sleep in tonight, I'm sure we could offer you the use of our home. By the way my name is Harry." He put one hand between them, palm up, an open invitation.

Ginny looked suspiciously at him, unable to decide whether the man was being serious or jestful. She finally nodded in acceptance and took the offered hand.

3 months later

"Ha-ha, No!" Ginny laughed in mock pain as Harry mercilessly tickled her, his emerald green eyes laughing playfully as he wrestled her to the ground.

Ginny and Harry were in the cozy cottage that the men lived in, named Shell Cottage. Ginny had grown used to life in the picturesque cottage with the six men that she now viewed as brothers. The pain and sorrow of the past had faded into a dull ache that was always present but faded into the background, especially when she was occupied with other activities

Ginny's smile faded as Harry's face came precariously close to hers, her wrists pinned to the floor, her body enveloped by the warm scent of Harry. She looked up at his face in a timeless still, his eyes hooded, his lips looking deliciously sinful. As if in slow motion, her eyes closed and her face moved closer to his and then, their lips were touching. A soft, feather light kiss that sealed their fate.

Ginny broke away from him, a beatific smile on her face.

Harry stared at the glass tomb that enveloped his beloved in shock, his emotions numb, unable to feel anything. He slowly read the inscription again.

"Only the kiss of true love can change the fate of the one that lies ensconced in this tomb"

This was the ultimate test, it all depended on him and his love for her, whether it was determined pure enough by fate to change it.

He used both of his hands to lift the glass covering off the tomb of Ginny and then looked at her face. She looked so beautiful, innocent, unmarred by the troubles of life. It seemed almost cruel to wake her up, but he was determined to do exactly that. He softly brushed his fingers against her lips before his lips descended on Ginny's. He poured all the love, heartache and warmth that he had ever felt for her into that kiss. He leaned back and his face crumpled in disappointment as Ginny lay unmoving. He wept for the loss of his beloved and a lone tear trickled down his face and slipped between the lips of the dead girl.

With a deep sigh she awoke and opened her eyes. She looked up curiously to see the man she loved weeping unashamedly. She smiled in understanding before reaching up with her fingers to brush away his tears.

Harry looked down at her in astonishment before he enveloped her in his arms.

Today was their day to rejoice, tomorrow they would right the injustices in the world and bring the meaning of happiness back to their Kingdom.