Once Upon A Fairy Tale

Title: Once Upon A Fairy Tale

Author: Karen Noelle

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, just the story of this plot. Please don’t sue. I have no money anyway.

Author’s note: I’ve been on a posting spree this weekend. Must be the lack of sleep that has made me a little crazy. I have no idea where this came from, but I distinctly remember the plot bunny hopping all over me that fateful night and I had it written out in a flash. It has been rotting in my folder for ages before I found it again last night when I was writing my other fics, so I thought, ‘hey, why not just post this and see how it goes?’ Prior warning though: I have several fics in my hands now, and I’m not the most consistent writer; sometimes I churn out chapters in chunks, sometimes I remain constipated for a long time. Er, so, yar, I apologise in advance for any waiting agony I might cause you.

As I still have not been able to reach my beta, this is posted un-betaed. I take full responsibility for horrible writing, and I apologise in advance if I have traumatised you with bad writing.

Please read and review. ^__^

~*~

PROLOGUE

“Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. The red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she thought to herself, would it not be wonderful if I had a child with skin as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, and her hair as black as the wood of the window-frame? Her prayers were answered soon after and she had a little daughter, whose skin was as white as snow, and whose lips as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony, and she was therefore called little Snow White …”

“Wait a minute, Weasley.”

“What?” Ginny snapped, struggling in vain to turn around without having her ridiculously long hair obstruct her movement.

If she had been in a better mood, she would have appreciated her newly acquired long hair more – it was magnificent, fine as spun gold and red as sunset, threaded with hints of shiny copper. The smooth river of flame that fell softly over her shoulders was straight; the rest of the length rippled in loose spiral curls. Ginny, like every girl her age, had often wished to have beautiful long hair like the princesses and beauties had in fairy tales; an elegant look she could proudly wear and that would draw admiring glances, but surely not this long? Long shiny tresses were only enviable in fantasy. In reality, having hair that ran at least fifty feet was as bad as having Draco Malfoy in the same room. It was difficult not to trip over them. Piling and fastening them on the top of her head was not an option. Not only were they too heavy to be supported on her head, it made her looked like an absurd incarnation of a strawberry on legs.

Washing her hair was another nightmare. Unfastening the braids alone took up hours. With the washing, combing, and braiding, there was no time to do anything else. If this were how life was like for beauties like Rapunzel, then Ginny would rather have hers back. Her own hair might be a horrid sight to behold, but it beat this life any day. Sure it would be nice to have Prince Charming profess his undying love for her like how it was in the romantic story of Rapunzel, but Ginny was convinced that even without great hair, she would meet a nice boy one day. Besides, if having her wildest dream come true meant having to endure the prospect of such confession from Draco Malfoy, she would very much rather be dead than romantic.

“Ahem hem.” She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Draco clearing his throat. Coming from him, the sound was almost vulgar.

“I said,” he started to say nonchalantly once he had garnered her attention. He swung his feet onto the table, and leaning back comfortably in the chair, continued, “there is a problem there, in that story, Snow White, is it? One, you don’t have skin as white as snow. You have skin splattered with brown, hideous spots. Two, you don’t have lips as red as blood, which is fine since I can only imagine a banshee having lips like that. Three, your hair is red, not black. And of course, there’s the fact that you are not pretty enough. What makes you think that you can carry off Snow White?”

She fumed.

As if you have what it takes to be a prince.

“In case you haven’t realised,” she retorted, holding up a handful of her hair and swinging it at Draco’s direction, “This fantasy world has its own magic to make things work. I already have ridiculous long hair. And you have ridiculous pointy boots. Purple pointy boots with white stockings. And that … that, I don’t even know what to call it …”

It was a shiny black satin shirt with an attached white neck ruffle and puffy violet sleeves. Over the shirt was a long vest in deep gold, sleeveless and satiny. The front of the vest had sparkling sequins in various shades of blue, red and violet sewn in elaborated designs, and the hems were lined with laces. At the end of the sleeves, there were even more laces. Ginny felt that there should be a law to limit the amount of laces a tailor could use in a single outfit. The loose trousers (she was not even sure if she could call that trousers) that were fastened at the knees made Draco looked like he had accidentally stepped into two wine barrels and had them pulled up to his thighs.

And as if it was not enough, a red cape was worn over the vest, completed with fur trimmings, and decorated ostentatiously in gold and silver threads. The overall effect was that of an oversized prat with an oversized ego sitting in an oversized chair presenting himself as an emblem for the oversized fashion disaster of the medieval era.

“ … but I digress. I suppose when we reach the story of Snow White, I will become someone with black hair and fair skin. After being stuck here for so long, one would think you would have figured this out. But then again, you are intellectually challenged, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Draco shrugged without saying another word. The display of haughty detachment annoyed Ginny more than it would have if he had made some snarky remarks in return. The lack of interest unnerved her already fragile state of mind.

In a childish fit of anger, she threw her Muggle copy of The Never-Ending Fairy Tales at the boy. It hit him in the head and the velvet hat he wore fell on his face. His nose wrinkled as the fur on the edge of the hat trickled his nostrils. He sneezed.

“Hey!”

She ignored his indignant look. Turning around swiftly, she stalked towards the window. The light layer of chiffon on her blue gown, shimmering in the candlelight that had filled out the room, whirled along with her movement, and her hair, which she had given up braiding, was dragged along the ground as she walked. With one long finger, she pointed at the opened window and commanded Draco.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I say get out.”

“Where am I supposed to go? We are in this together.”

“Correction,” Ginny said and folded her arms. “You got me into this mess.”

“And your point is?” Draco questioned as he stood up and strode towards the girl. “Need I remind you that to get out of here, you need me as much as I need you?”

“No, I rather not be reminded of that,” she answered, glaring icily at Draco. “If this is what a fairy tale is supposed to be like, I would rather throw myself off this tower …”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Draco said, coming closer to stand in front of Ginny, his signature smirk plastered on his face. “You want to get out of this as much as I do.”

“Of course,” she answered calmly as she stepped towards Draco, closing the distance between them. “But for now, I’ll settle for getting you out of my sight.”

And with that, she gave Draco a hard shove and pushed him out of the window.

Title: Once Upon A Fairy Tale

Author: Karen Noelle

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, just the story of this plot (and any mistakes you may find). Please don’t sue. I have no money anyway.

Author’s note: I’ve been a productive bumblebee, so this was written out in one day. I hope it’s up to standard. For those who’ve complained that they are thoroughly confused by the prologue, I hope this helps clear things up because I have intended for the structure of this story to work this way. Enjoy, and please review. I would love to have more feedback as it is the first time I’m attempting something resembling action and adventure. ^__^

~*~

- Chapter One-

The Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes

The Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes stood in the middle of the most prominent street in Diagon Alley, right next to Gringotts. The entire building was five stories tall, consisting of a warehouse, a spacious office, which had a laboratory attached, a retail area and accommodation. Ginny’s brothers had moved out of the Burrow once their business took off, and for practical reasons, decided that it was best for them to stay in their shop. Molly Weasley had been most conflicted with this new development. On one hand, she was not quite ready to let go of the fact that her two boys never did graduate from Hogwarts. On the other, she was glad that with the boys out of the house, along went their bizarre experimentations that were usually conducted at home.

“Good day, Mrs Weasley,” the staff greeted her as she walked into the shop. She smiled graciously, nodded and returned the gesture, exuding the usual warmth and generosity that was distinctly Weasley. She left the basket of food meant for the staff at the retail area before she walked off to the centre of the shop to take the lift up to the highest floor where the office was. Looking around, she took in the sights of people manoeuvring among the masses: children dashing about playing catching or hide and seek or wondering off to pick up toys that were too advanced for their age, much to their parents’ dismay; students on holidays stocking up their tools for pranks and amusement, no doubt; and adults, fascinated with the sheer variety of products available at the shop. It was not a weekend, but as Molly travelled up in the lift, she looked down and saw that the queue at the payment counter stretched all the way to the back of the store. Business was very good. And not only that, there was warmth about the place, radiating happiness and contentment, and Molly smiled and sighed. Her heart swelled with pride. Her boys had grown into themselves, finally. How they did it, she did not know, but it was certainly a good thing that they had succeeded by working on things they were passionate about.

Ding, the bell rang and the lift door slid open. Molly stepped out of the lift and followed the familiar way leading to her children’s office. Her shoes clicked as she walked on the shiny oak floor. She beamed approvingly at the office interior, wide and spacious, and which could only be described as magnificent.

She pushed open doors after doors towards the laboratory, only to find it locked.

She knocked on the metal door, feeling its vibration under her hand.

“Fred, George,” she called. “Ginny? It’s Mum. And you better not tell me that you haven’t had lunch.”

~*~

“Oh no, you can’t do that. It won’t work.”

“Who say it won’t work? We haven’t even tried.”

“That’s complete and utter bull, Fred. We’ve done the test run for yonks, and you know it still doesn’t work properly! And it won’t!”

“Chill, Gin, we’ll work something out.”

“Work what out? This mechanism is too complicated. You can’t expect to launch this to the general public and hope that no one gets …”

“Oh, quit the melodrama, please.”

“I’m not being melodramatic!” Ginny Weasley cried, and stomped her foot. “I’m performing security control. This one is just not going to work. Not now. Now ever.”

“Ouch,” George exclaimed. “Good to know just how much faith you have in us.”

“It’s not about the faith,” Ginny groaned, pressing the heel of her palms against her closed lids. “I’m being realistic.”

“And we all know how far that would bring us,” the twin echoed sarcastically. Not for the first time, Ginny seriously wondered if the twins were telepathic.

“Please,” Ginny pleaded. “Don’t get into trouble.”

The twins looked scandalised.

“Since when did we ever get into trouble?”

All the time?

“And don’t say all the time,” George cut in, wagging a threatening finger at her. “We got in trouble, we got out of trouble…”

“And that’s not considered trouble?” Ginny asked in disbelief.

“No, of course not.”

“Argh, I can’t talk to you two. You are not sane. You are not listening. You are…you are…”

“It’s time to have lunch,” Fred said suddenly.

“No, it’s not time to have lunch! It’s time to close off this case and make sure it remains closed!” Ginny argued.

“Ah no, my dear sister, you are not going to get what you want this time.”

“And why not? I’ll die trying.”

“We’d hate to have you die trying,” George replied. “It’s just the time of the year to remind you that we are your boss, and we pay you to …”

“Perform security control on all merchandises registered under the name of the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes,” she cut in. “I’m just doing my job, boss.”

“Okay dokie, enough,” Fred said and waved his hands about. “We’ll talk about this again after lunch, all right? I’m famished.”

Feeling thoroughly drained, Ginny flopped on her chair and sulked.

“I thought we’re in this together,” she said, pulling a long face. “We’re equals, are we not?”

“We are,” George said as he sat down beside her. “At least we are until you started acting like a worry pot, just like…”

“Like Mum? I’ll be sure to let her know what you said about her,” Ginny replied nastily.

“That’s besides the point. See, you are this worry pot and you…”

“I have legitimate grounds to worry!” Ginny exclaimed, indignant. “I mean, since when have I ever stopped you from doing what you like? You know I wouldn’t be acting like this if the test runs weren’t…”

“I think,” George cut in evenly, “that your definition of legitimate ground is quite different from ours. You think that…”

“I think that this is far too dangerous to continue.”

“I think quite the contrary. All we need is to fine-tune some of the kinks…”

“Kinks?” Ginny repeated, horrified. “They are not kinks, George. They are big loopholes in the design. Loopholes as big as the galaxy and…”

“Now perhaps you are really indulging in too much melodrama. The galaxy is not an appropriate analogy.”

“It’s so the appropriate analogy. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

“OKAY! Stop, stop,” Fred cut in, waving his arms wildly. “Enough. Do not tread the route that leads down to family destruction and Roman tragedy. Animosity does not a family make. Mum is going to kill me if I let a book break up the family. Honestly!” he said, and rambled off in his dramatic manner.

“Thou art the emblem of brotherly-sisterly love, and I love thee both more than words can wield the matter, dearer than stardust, pranks and liberty. Stronger than sex! Toys, and butterbeer! Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare! No less than life! With shrimps, fish, and apricots! As much as Snape loves his cauldron, and Dumbledore, his sherbet lemons! Thou would not make me choose between my palms and my hands…”

“Gods,” Ginny said. “Someone stop him, please.”

“Muahahaha. Stronger than sex,” George cackled and fell off his chair.

“I hear no evil, lalala lalalala,” Ginny sang and covered her ears resolutely as Fred went on butchering Shakespeare.

“Fred, George?” someone called in the nick of time, knocking on the laboratory door before her ears started bleeding like the Nigeria Falls. “Ginny, it’s Mum. And you better not tell me that you haven’t had lunch.”

~*~

No matter how she tried, she still could not see how it would work.

The charms that were placed on the book to allow entry into the fantasy world were similar to the one used on Tom Riddle’s diary. She had first hand encounter with that sort of magic to know how it felt like. The subject involved was never totally in control in the virtual world. They might try to bind in some strong Imperius charms to control the subjects in the virtual world now that George had managed to break the apparent non-communication between the real subjects and the virtual ones, but even then they had to break a few Ministry laws, and Ginny doubted it would be wise to tread the route to Azkaban.

It was a charming idea Fred came up with. A book with children stories was common enough. But a book with stories that the readers could participate in – that was something new. Ginny had no doubt that if the plan took off, they would be witnessing a revolution in not only the children toys industry but also the entire industry dealing with amusement objects. Consumer tastes would be dramatically altered to expect more sophisticated playthings like this one, and with a patent to this technology, Ginny could imagine how it would elevate the Weasleys’ economic status.

In other words, it would be cool beyond belief.

Moreover, Ginny had to agree that the idea was fun. No doubt many of her nephews and nieces would love it. To be able to hop into the fairy tale land, to be Snow White and Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, a Prince, Peter Pan, and even to taste a piece of the candy house in Hansel and Gretel; it would bring joy to the children of the world. Of course, childhood was not all fun and play. With the technology, they would also be able to design educational books that allowed for more hands on experiments and that would indubitably aid learning and inspire intellectual curiosity in children.

If only she could work out the problem with the design. The results of the test runs had been disappointing, and severely so. Ginny lost count of the numerous times Fred and George entered the fantasy world only to get chased out of the book by bows and arrows and sometimes the threat of poison apples. Ginny thought they should consider themselves lucky that they did not get stuck in the virtual world with no means of escape. The effect of the injuries were illusionary and would fade off after some time of re-exposure to the real world, but the actual effect of the injuries when one was stuck in the virtual world was unknown, and Ginny was not about to gamble with it. The possibility of people getting hurt was not acceptable. Play should not be painful at all.

She leafed through the pages, a deep frown lining her forehead. Her wild hair was twisted together at the crown of her head and secured with a quill. Loose, messy tendrils fell ungracefully all over her face, tickling her nose.

“Ginny?” Someone knocked her bedroom door before opening it. It was George. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she said and hastily swept her mad hair away from her face. “It’s late.”

“Hey, that was my line,” George said good-naturedly, and sat down on her bed, facing her. He scanned her table briefly, and she stared at the open air in a determined fashion.

A wide grin threatened to break his face into halves.

“I thought you said to close the case?” he commented. “Or was that someone else?”

“Well,” she said slowly, tucking her hair behind her ears. Honestly, the heavy curls had to be curbed somehow, and one day, when she found the time, she would do just that. “I’ll admit I think the idea is a fine one, but you have to agree with me that the premise is also difficult. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Right, point taken,” he answered, holding up his hands in surrender. “But I’m not denying that there’re problems, all right? I just don’t want to give this up. And I speak for Fred too. Now I see you are also feeling the same way.”

“There must be a way to do it without the Imperius Charm.”

“You make it sound so nice. Imperius Curse, I was taught in Hogwarts.”

“Controlling charm anyhow,” she answered. “You’ve got any idea?”

“I take that as a ‘yes, we will continue with the project’?”

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve decided to give it another try, but I insist on safety measures this time.”

“That’s fine with me,” he answered, and shifted about uncomfortably. “And Gin, about earlier, I just want to say I’m sorry if it seems that I’ve been picking on you. I wasn’t.”

She smiled. He smiled back sheepishly.

“I didn’t really mean it when I call you a worry pot,” he went on to say. “That was criminally uncreative.”

“I’m sorry too, George,” she said, and placed her hand over his. George took the hand up and turned it over, and Ginny followed suit, and in several complicated moves, they performed their signature sibling handshake in perfect practised fashion.

“Let’s not fight again,” she went on to say. “It only gives Fred an excuse to start butchering quotes. My ears can only bleed so much, and only so often.”

“I know,” he replied. “Dearer than stardust, pranks and liberty. Stronger than sex, toys, and butterbeer! At least we know where we stand.”

“I heard that!” A voice called from the hall.

Ignoring Fred, George rose from the bed, stood by the table and picked up the tools on Ginny’s table, turning them in his hands.

“So, anything I can do here?”

“Yes,” she replied in a business-like manner. “We need to try to embed the charms more firmly this time. It might work. And the security codes have to be fixed again. The last time you and Fred test run this, the magic in the book went haywire. I’m still not sure how it happened. Reminds me of what Dad always says about things that have minds of their own.”

“Well, this time, we just need to make sure we give them a mind of our own,” George said, rubbing his hands together, glaring at the offending book like a predator about to conquer its prey.

“Oh no, not that one!” Ginny cried, snatching the book from George, leaving him to stare at her pitifully.

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind!”

“No, I haven’t,” she answered, sniffing indignantly. “I just think we should keep this one and run tests on it, see what went wrong, and the like. We can start a new one to work in the added security measures.”

“Brand new one?” Fred said, popping his head into the room. “Doesn’t that mean copying out a new one?”

“All of it?” George cried, looking momentarily horrified at the idea of copying out the stories on new parchments. The task had proved to be alarmingly boring the first time round.

“Chop, chop, set to work,” Ginny said and clapped her hands loudly. She rummaged through the stuff on her table, picking out the Muggle copy of The Never-Ending Fairy Tales. “George, you do Snow White. Fred, you do Rapunzel.”

“And you?”

“I’m making us all some very good coffee,” she said and smiled. “Get to work, boys,” she said loudly amidst the sounds of protest from her brothers.

It was going to be a very long night.

~*~

The fire in the floo network boomed and flared continuously as one floo call connected after another, lighting the office like a flickering light bulb. Draco did not know what a light bulb was, or he would have found the comparison fitting indeed. He hated the blinding light flashing from the fireplace, but there was no way he could stop it from doing so, unless he wanted the Malfoy Enterprise to close down simply because he had stubbornly refused to answer his floo calls. That would not be a good enough reason for his father.

At this time, his office was buzzing with activity: People walking in and out of his office with a high pile of parchments balanced precariously in their hands; house elves scooting about answering to Draco’s every beck and call; Draco rummaging through the things on his desk, looking for the important report he needed to assess a business decision.

It was a crucial time for the company. The Malfoy Enterprise was expanding. Cash flow was tight. Everything had to be watched. Current trade contracts had to be followed through smoothly. New contracts had to be taken in to ensure that the company currency kept circulating. Draco could not afford to make any mistake. He had joined his father’s company barely a year ago, straight out of Hogwarts, and he was eager to please his father and establish his status as the legitimate heir to the family business. He knew that many people were watching him closely now, assessing his capability as his father’s son. And Draco would kill to earn his father’s approval, or die trying.

“Mr. Malfoy,” one of his personal assistants called from the door. Draco looked up to see the man waiting politely to be let in. He lowered his eyes again to look at the report.

“Come in.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” the man started. Draco could never remember his name. Jim? Jerry? Jason? Whatever.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said again. “There is something that I think you need to know.”

“Out with it now, Jim,” Draco snapped, picking up his coffee cup, fixing a stern stare at the man over the rim of his cup. “I don’t have all day.”

“It’s John, sir,” he replied, shifting uncomfortably when he realised he had just committed the unforgivable crime of correcting his employer.

“Yes?” Draco prompted, his voice loud and commanding.

“It’s this rumour, sir,” John said furtively as he came closer towards Draco, leaning over his table in the manner of a conspirator relaying a very important message for a coup de’tat. “Words have been spreading that a new technology is going to be patented. A technology to create virtual realities in children’s story books.”

“I’m not interested in children’s books,” Draco commented, irritated. “Now John, don’t ever trouble me with trivialities or I swear I’ll…”

“No, no sir, please,” John cut in urgently. “This new technology is going to cause a stir. The ability to create virtual realities that real wizards and witches can partake would mean countless new opportunities. Like virtual tourism, board games, educational products, not just books. And it may also mean the end of other things. Conventional tourism for one thing, is going to take a hard hit because virtual tourism is just so much more affordable, and our travel and transport division, where the bulk of our contracts are, is going to…”

“Who is it?” Draco cut in.

“Er, I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I mean,” Draco continued impatiently. “Who is conducting this research project? And from whom did this news come from? I command you to investigate the validity of this rumour. I will not go on a wild-goose chase, and certainly not…”

“The Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, sir.”

“What?”

“The Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. They are the pioneer researchers on the subject of virtual realities as a form of amusement plaything for their line of products. A few other enterprises have started on it too, once they heard, but it seems a little late. Accordingly, the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is at the final stage of research.”

“It was a rhetorical question, John. I know who the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes are. A most unfortunate fact, I’d have to admit,” Draco said evenly, putting his cup down. “And I assume since the elite team sent you in as a representative to relay the news that you imbeciles have already derived a solution from your, no doubt, very efficient conference for damage control.”

“Yes, most certainly, sir,” John continued, nodding earnestly. “We have several proposals. One of which is to buy over the patent ownership. But it will be difficult, sir. The Weasleys had never sold a single patent since they started, and one doubt they are likely to sell such a lucrative business plan to another…”

“Yes, yes, on to plan B.” Honestly, the staff had to be taught to cut a long story short.

“Most certainly, sir. A more feasible plan – as we all agreed – would be to propose a partnership…”

“That is out of question. The Malfoy enterprise will not venture into a partnership with blood traitors.”

“But Mr. Malfoy, that is the only way.”

“Why did no one initiate such a research in my enterprise? I demand to know how things have come to this. Someone is going to pay for this shit.”

“It was unprecedented. Such a technology is very bold.”

“Enough! Don’t feed me platitudes!”

“My apologies, Mr. Malfoy. I did not mean to…”

“Get on with it then,” Draco said, fuming. “I am buying over that sorry excuse of a wizard enterprise.”

“Erm, sir…”

“Did you not hear my instructions? I SAID get into contact with those parasites and I am going to buy over their company now!”

“But sir, the cash flow… and they are not likely to sell their …”

“I said NOW!” Draco yelled and banged his fist on the tabletop, causing the objects sitting on it to shake violently. “And don’t use the company name. Say Mr. Jim from Bulgaria wishes to speak to them with regards to the funding of their project. They would need that kind of money to run a plan as extensive as that.”

~*~

“So who is this Bulgaria mate of ours?” Fred asked as he walked past Ginny with a box of Flicket Fireworks.

“It is hardly conclusive at this stage,” Ginny replied, flipping through some paperwork. “You might not want to call him your mate too soon. For all you know, he might turn out to be someone you really hate.”

“Oh, whoever shares my interest in our technology is a friend of mine, no doubt about that. Besides, we’ve gone to school with Malfoy. Who else can be as detestable?”

“I guess you have a point,” Ginny said and smiled as she put away the accounts. “Where is George?”

“Outside,” Fred yelled from the laboratory.

“Outside where?” Ginny laughed. “Outside the office, or outside as in the fourth floor, or third, or second, or first? Or outside Wheezes?”

“Outside!”

“On Merlin’s grave,” Ginny mumbled to herself, shaking her head as she stood up from her table and stretched. She popped her head into the laboratory later to find Fred moving out all the boxes of Flicket Fireworks.

“What are you doing?”

“Work.”

Ginny leaned against the doorway, waiting patiently for the answer.

“Lee is throwing a party to celebrate the Cannon’s win against the Harpies. We are moving all these Flicket Fireworks over to his place now.”

“All of it?”

“Of course! We’re celebrating a Cannon win!”

“Celebrating? But the Bulgarian…”

Fred waved her off, and Ginny had the very bad feeling that she had been set up without being consulted.

“You can handle it, Gin,” Fred said, flashing a grin that made Ginny’s hair stand on ends. “You are our business representative.”

“Since when?”

“As of today! Congratulations, my dear,” Fred said. “It’s a promotion.”

“You can’t do this to me! I’ve never met this Bulgarian before…”

“Neither have we,” Fred said cheerfully, walking casually towards the door, carrying the last of the boxes of fireworks.

“I don’t speak Bulgarian!”

“Neither do we! And not to worry, he spoke English to you over the floo, didn’t he?” he said over his shoulder, waiting for the lift.

“Well, that was his assistant…and Fred, no! Stop! You are not leaving this building until you... FRED!”

Ding! The lift door slid to a close. Fred waved happily at Ginny as she pounded on the lift door.

“FRED WEASLEY, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN!”

~*~

Draco wore a hat over his newly charmed black hair, adjusting it here and there in front of his mirror until he was satisfied with the way it matched his new outfit.

“Sir,” the house elf squeaked, “your gloves.”

He stretched out his hands carelessly and let the house elf slip the gloves over his hands.

It was perfect. With his hair black, and his custom-made glamour adding a few inches to his person, he looked like a brand new man. Not that his original person was any less impressive. He might be shorter than the usual Malfoy, but he nonetheless had the aristocratic features of a sharp nose and high cheekbones. His grey eyes were also charming, as his mother never failed to remind him. And his attitude was Malfoy through and through, commanding respect.

All in all, Draco decided he was a handsome and worthy man.

Stepping out of the manor, he allowed the house elves to help him into his new cloak (that was two size bigger, to fit his new stature) before he boarded the carriage and set off to Diagon Alley.

No one would be able to recognise him. He was very sure of that. In fact, he was so confident that he did not bother to add a glamour over his face. The new hair and new height would suffice.

Someone should have told him that it was a dangerous assumption to make.

~*~

“With regards to the funding, Miss Weasley, I’m afraid I’m going to need more information on the current development of your project,” Mr. Dragomir Jim said. “It’s no small amount of money, you know.”

“Yes, of course, I understand,” Ginny replied. “It’s this virtual reality concept, much like a Pensieve. Have you used a Pensieve before, Mr. Drago- I mean, Dra --?”

“Just call me Jim,” he cut in. “I told my employee to leave my name as Jim. I don’t know why he bothered you with such a complicated name.”

“Oh no, your name is very nice,” Ginny said pleasantly. “Very unique. Is it in the Bulgarian language?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I should think so.”

“Of course,” Ginny replied, nodding. “So about the Pensieve…”

“I know what a Pensieve is,” he said, and as an afterthought, added politely, “Miss Weasley.”

“Splendid. Then you should have no problem understanding how this would work,” she said excitedly. “We are basically using the same concept, except my brother, Fred, has found a way to program the subjects in the virtual world, so that interaction can be…”

“Program?”

“Yes,” she said. “It means to set up a platform, basically. A Muggle term, but couldn’t be more appropriate when it comes to describing the project.”

“Muggle term?” he repeated, slightly scandalised.

Ginny picked up the tone, and briefly wondered what kind of a man this Jim character was, if he showed disdain for Muggles. At the moment, however, business was more important, and Ginny decided it was best to skip ahead of this issue to the more relevant ones.

“Yes,” she answered and pulled the topic back quickly. “Fred has discovered a way to manipulate the subjects we’ve drawn into the storybooks. Of course, we brought the characters to life first with a rather simple Charm that I’m afraid I cannot as yet disclose to you, but the end effect is that of a world created in the book that allows for a real subject to enter and participate in.”

“Entering a book?” he clarified, his tone betraying his disbelief.

“Yes, that would be correct, Mr Jim,” Ginny answered. “We are currently in the process of creating a storybook for children which allows them to enter the world as described in the tales. The result is that of a first-hand experience of the fairy tales.”

“And how can they do that?”

“The children?” Ginny asked, and Draco nodded. “If you are worried about operative instructions that may be too complicated for children to grasp, rest assured we’ve that part taken care of. My brothers and I agreed that the operation mechanism should be kept as simple as possible. We haven’t exactly tested out the switches, as we like to call it, but that will be the way it works when it’s done. There will be a lock that has to be unlocked for the book to open. Then, we intend to add in a password charm – just for security purposes, you know? Can’t have children accidentally dropping into books. Password charm will be the point of entry into the virtual reality. Another password charm will be worked into the book to allow for exit whenever one chooses. Otherwise, the subject can exit the book once they reach the end of it.”

“What happens in the book then? The experiences you speak of.”

“Well,” Ginny trailed off, biting her lower lip. This part was tricky. The truth was, they were not entirely sure if it was even workable but …

“Miss Weasley?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It would be like a game. The children can take on any characters they want and role-play the story in the virtual world. The characters in the stories are prog- I mean, manipulated by charms to play along and assist the children in re-enacting the stories. It works very much like the, erm …”

“The?”

Oh, what the heck.

“The Muggle gaming software.”

“Charming,” Draco said and sipped his coffee. His words sounded as if they had been smeared with a layer of ridicule. Ginny restraint herself and waited anxiously at the other side of the table.

“You see, Miss Weasley,” he said. “All these sound very … exciting. But such an ambitious project, are you sure it can be followed through?”

“We only need more time!” Ginny blurted out before she could stop herself. Remind calm, she reminded herself. Be professional. She coughed and recomposed herself. “I am sure with enough funding we would be able to fine tune the little obstacles that we face now.”

“Obstacles, Miss Weasley?”

“All great projects meet difficulties along the way. It’s what makes it challenging and fulfilling.”

“Admirable,” he said, and there was it again, the injection of sarcasm. Ginny was getting increasingly irritated with the man. He reminded her of someone she knew once, who was just as abominable, if not more.

“So, Mr. Jim, what’s your verdict?”

“I would like to see what you have first,” he replied coolly.

“What we have now is not ready for…”

“Just a glimpse of what I am venturing into, Miss Weasley,” he cut in. “Surely it is not an unreasonable request, considering the amount of money I’m putting in for the project.”

“Of course, but…”

“Just a look, Miss Weasley, to satisfy my aching curiosity. Then we can talk about the contract.”

“About the contract, may I know how we are going to split the…”

“The product first, if you please.”

Reluctantly, Ginny got up from her seat and left in the direction of the laboratory. “One moment, please,” she said.

The man nodded his headed in acknowledgement, his grey eyes twinkling. Ginny had time to notice the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. That moment, Ginny thought he looked disturbingly like Draco Malfoy. But surely he could not be. Draco Malfoy was blond and short. This man had dark hair and was at least six foot two. Draco Malfoy must be about five foot six, if she did not remember wrongly. She shook her head to clear the wild ideas she had got in her mind, and carried on resolutely to retrieve The Never-Ending Fairy Tales.

When she returned, the man was spinning his wand between his fingers, flipping the wooden article into the air at regular intervals and catching it in his hand before he began spinning it again, a bored expression on his face. It was a strong sense of déjà vu. Ginny had only seen one person do that, and she was glad to say that she hadn’t seen said person in a long time since he graduated from Hogwarts.

“Here it is, Mr. Jim,” Ginny said pleasantly as she placed the book on the table carefully. “I have to ask you to be careful with this. The passwords charm has not been worked in yet.”

“It looks just like any other book,” he commented, turning the closed book in his hand.

“Yes.” Of course it does, idiot. It’s a book.

“Would you mind bringing me another cup of coffee, Miss Weasley?” the man said without taking his eyes off the book. “I’m rather thirsty after such a long discussion.”

“Of course, Mr. Jim,” Ginny replied and waited for the man to return her the book.

He didn’t.

Ginny coughed and cleared her throat.

“Mr. Jim, the book,” she said as nicely as she could.

“I’d like to take a further look at it,” he answered calmly, smiling. “Surely you don’t think I would take the book and run?”

Ginny laughed nervously at that.

“No, of course not, sir. It’s just that this is a very delicate object and I would really rather be safe than sorry.”

“You have nothing to worry about, my lady,” the man said. “I am a competent wizard.”

“I’ll call for one of my staff to bring us more coffee, and perhaps some snacks. Excuse me a moment,” she finally conceded. She walked to the nearest telephone and dialled for the staff in the main office. She also made sure to look over her shoulder to check on the man.

And saw him switching the book with another. She blinked.

“Mr Jim,” she said, walking quickly towards the man.

Draco stood up as quickly and made for the door.

“I’m afraid I’ve some urgent matters to attend to, Miss Weasley. I must go now. About the project…”

“Hand over the book,” she said evenly, fixing him with an icy stare.

“It’s on the table,” he answered, pointing a long finger at the direction. She didn’t waver.

“I saw you charming another book to look exactly like it and switching them!” she yelled, and grabbed hold of the man’s elbow. “Hand it over, you twit!”

“I’m sure there’s a mistake…”

“Quit the act! WHO are you?”

“Miss Weasley,” he said, struggling as Ginny tried to force a hand into his pocket. “Miss Weasley!”

“Hand it over!”

“No, there’s no…”

“Ha!” She let out a triumphed laugh, holding out the book she’d found in his pocket. “Do you want to explain this, Mr. Jim?”

“It’s not what you think,” he said, making a snatch for the book.

“Get the hell out of my office!” she screamed, holding on to the book for dear life.

“Hell if I would. Not without the book!” he yelled at her.

“This is a criminal offence! It’s robbery!”

“I don’t care if it’s robbery. I’d like to see you prove it!”

“You shameless!”

“Give it to me!” he commanded and pulled the book out of Ginny’s grasp. And again, the commanding tone reminded her of …

“Bastard!” she shrieked and caught a fistful of his hair in her hand. She pulled. The few strands of hair that came off in her hand turned from black to blond.

“ARGH!” he screamed. “You abominable dirt!”

“Give me back my book, and I’m sending you to the …”

She did not have the chance to tell Draco where she would like to send him. That moment, in the midst of their tussle, the book came open. Each of them held one side of it. A blinding golden light flashed.

When the light faded, the book dropped on the floor with a thud. The pages turned on their own volition, crackling as they did so, until the cover page snapped to a close.

Someone knocked at the door. When no one answered it, the person opened the door. It was one of the Wheezes staff, holding a tray of snacks and coffee in her hands.

“Miss Weasley?” she called.

But there was no one there.

The confused employee scratched her head and shrugged before she closed the door and left.

~*~

A/N: The quote butchered by Fred was originally from King Lear. I apologise if I’ve offended any Shakespeare fans. I just can’t help it. :P

And I realised Jim is hardly Bulgarian a name, but that is the point. Draco wouldn’t have a clue about Bulgarian names. He just instructed whatever came to mind at the moment, and his assistant, John had decided to add on ‘Dragomir’ to make the name more Bulgarian-like, except Dragomir Jim was not any improvement. Silly boys, they are.