In the beginning, Harry was sure he had a father and a mother who loved him very much. When he looked up at Snape, he knew love could have nothing to do with why he was here. Snape treated Harry like he was worth less than the dirt under his shoes. Harry never heard a kind, loving word from the man who claimed to have been in love with his mother and tolerated his father to be with her. He tolerated Draco and Pansy, also brushed off on him by his dead lovers, and even liked them at times in his own way, though it was hard to admit Snape could like anyone, let alone children who acted like that. Draco had numerous conquests, of both sexes, at a time, despite being the tender age of seventeen. Pansy had even slept around on occasion, but mostly she caused huge scandals and spread gossip to all who would listen to her. Still, Snape gave Draco and Pansy special privileges, and all three of them demanded chores to be done around the house that were always done by him and he was not allowed to leave the house without finishing them. Needless to say, Harry never saw too much of the people outside.
Singing under his breath, Harry scrubbed the floors with a brush and a bucket of water. Snape had never taken Harry to get a wand, leaving him to do his chores with his hands. Seeing Draco and Pansy finish their chores in less than half an hour, he flushed with envy, but he did nothing. Hedwig hooted softly as she flew down to his side. "The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green, and many a cold winter's nights my love and I have seen." She nudged up against him, twittering as if she were talking to him. He sighed, ignoring his imagination, and continued scrubbing and singing. "And now my love is dead and in his grave doth lie, the green grass grows o'er him so very, very high (1)."
"That's finished," he said to Hedwig with relief. "I feel like some fresh air. Let's go into the gardens." Living in Spinner's End had little advantages, as it was far away from the rest of town, but the Prince family had built a beautiful garden. Harry loved taking care of it. There was an old Prince family legend: when Aveline Prince planted the first rose under her window on her wedding night, the garden flourished with each time she and her husband made love. When her husband died after eighty years of marriage, the garden filled with dahlias, roses, orchids, and lilies of all kinds withered until the single rose was left beneath her window. It took eighty years for the Prince family to restore the garden. Although Snape cared for the garden (as it was his last memory of his mother, which Harry could understand), he lacked a green thumb. He designated it as one of Harry's chores, unaware of just how much he enjoyed the task.
Lying down in the garden, Harry closed his eyes against the harsh rays of the sun and let its warm wash over him. His favourite flower had to be the pink-tipped Great Maiden's Blush, one of the many roses under the cottage window. None of the flowers was too hard to care for, though, as most of those unable to withstand disease or the many cold nights of winter had died out in the years past. He would never admit it to his step-family, but he liked looking at the rose for its colours; no doubt Draco would taunt him for hours about liking a pink-and-white flower. Harry simply admired the garden in secrecy. He always got his clothes dirty too and, after cleaning the entire house, would never go back inside without washing himself and his clothes. While Draco, Pansy, and Snape waved their wands and their clothes were clean, Harry had an empty, wooden pool behind the cottage where he would wash his clothes and then water himself down with the hose.
Harry glared into the cottage. His step-family expected him to wallow in misery and self-pity; he would have none of it. One of these days, he would be married and have a family of his own, never to see them again. If he succumbed to their desires, Harry imagined no one would want him in the first place. "Come on, Hedwig, we need to get back inside," he shouted as the sun started to set.
::: ::: :::
The next day, as Harry was scrubbing the floors in front of the fireplace, the fire roared to life before his eyes. An old woman's face stared scrutinously back at him. "Who are you? Have I not asked for Spinner's End?"
"You are at Spinner's End, madam. I'm Professor Snape's step-son, Harry Potter. Surely he speaks of me?" Harry asked, looking confused.
The old woman shook her head. "Indeed, he has not, young man! I will have a word with him about it, I'm sure. I'm surprised you have not yet bowed your head. You must recognise Queen Augusta."
Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head before bowing it. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I do not leave the house or read much of the news. Will you accept my humblest of apologies?"
Queen Augusta smiled. "From a respectable young man like yourself, an apology cannot be refused." She cleared her throat. "On to business, since Severus is not there, I suppose I will extend the invitation to you, as well. I am holding a ball for Prince Neville to find him a suitable mate. All held in high regard are invited." As a regally decorated card flew out of the fireplace, Harry caught it and stared at the purple script. "It was nice to meet you, young Harry. We would be delighted if you would come."
"Without failure, Your Majesty," he said breathlessly, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him, as the queen and the fire disappeared all at once.
Pansy came into the kitchen, yawning and stretching. "What was all of that talking in here about, Potter? Have you finally gone daft and started babbling to yourself? Or, God forbid, to that bird?"
Harry looked at her irritably and contemplated starting another fire and throwing the invitation into it. "We have been invited to attend a ball held in honour of Prince Neville's coming-of-age. He's hoping to find a potential mate."
His step-sister looked at him incredulously for a moment before she jumped forward and snatched the invitation from his hand. She glanced over it quickly before she started screaming, "Draco, Snape, come quickly! COME QUICKLY!"
Walking into the kitchen with the most murderous look of his face—hair tousled from sleep, clothes strewn on at random—Draco glowered at Pansy, waiting for her to come up with a good reason for disturbing his morning routine. Snape followed in a similar mood, although he was covered with what looked like a spilt potion. He scowled at her. "What do you want, you shrieking banshee?"
"Look—look at this!" She thrust the invitation at him, bouncing excitedly. "There's going to be a ball!"
"To Professor Severus Snape, Miss Pansy Parkinson, Mister Draco Malfoy, and Mister Harry Potter," Snape read, giving Harry a strange glance. "You are cordially invited to attend a ball intended to celebrate the completion of Prince Neville's ascent into adulthood. In order for Prince Neville to fulfil obligations and ascend to the throne, he must find a suitable mate and be married to them within a month of reaching adult in the next fortnight. One will be chosen from the ball. Dress appropriate for royalty is required. Sincerely, Queen Augusta," he finished. "Why have you been invited?" Snape looked pointedly at Harry.
"I was the one who answered her call. She thought I was a nice boy, so she invited me." Harry shrugged innocently. "She didn't seem pleased that you never mentioned me."
Snape sneered at him. "You are not attending that ball. I would have to spend my hard-earned Galleons to buy suitable attire for you. You have chores to do that will take all day."
"Besides," Draco spoke up. "You don't even have a wand. You're powerless!"
"Yeah. What would the prince want with a peasant like you? You're worthless!"
Harry set his jaw and swallowed hard against the hard truths. "I'm not powerless! I'm not worthless! And I AM going to the ball! Queen Augusta was perfectly happy to—" Pansy pushed him savagely and he flew back into the fireplace, crying out as his back collided with the cinder-covered logs and his head hit the brick wall inside. His vision blurred. Harry curled forward, holding the back of his head.
Snape smirked at him. "For your insolence, you will be allowed to attend the ball once you have finished your chores for the day. However, you will be given Draco and Pansy's chores, as well as the extra task of cleaning the fireplace before we leave. We will not use the Floo in a dirty fireplace."
As the three of them left the room, Harry fought back tears. "I ask not for ease and riches, nor earth's jewels for my part, but I have the best of wishes for a pure and honest heart (2)."
::: ::: :::
On the day of the ball, Harry spent all morning cleaning the fireplace for his step-family, his heart hurt and aching. He knew he would never be able to go to the ball without Galleons to buy more than his rags. He had no doubt of his abilities to finish all of the chores in time, but he would never find a spare dress. He stood aside while Snape, Draco, and Pansy each entered the Floo. Pansy looked at him covered in soot and snorted. "Worthless, just as I Castle!"
Harry paid no mind to his heartache after that and focused on his other chores. He washed the soot from himself and changed his clothes, setting the dirty ones in the pool, before he came back inside to clean the floors. He had just finished that task when he heard a splash-like noise coming from behind the cottage. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Harry rushed outside to find someone had fallen into his pool!
"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, panicked.
An old woman rose from the pool before him. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she looked much like a drenched cat with her emerald robes pulling her down and her pointy hat almost falling from her head. She looked at him severely, seeming to blame him for the condition she was in before she flicked her wand toward her clothes and they were instantly dried! She smiled at him, but Harry didn't think she looked too inviting. "Why, I'm your fairy godmother, dear!"
He cocked his head. "Really? Is this going to be like that French tale, Cinderella?"
She blinked. "Please, tell me you are smarter than this!" she groaned. "Sincerely, child, I am not your fairy godmother. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall! Queen Augusta sent me to you when she saw your absence from the Snape party. Come, child, why have you not used your wand to finish these chores and fix up your dress?"
"I would have, Professor. However, I have never received a wand. They told me I was not worthy of one."
Professor McGonagall's look became more critical at that moment. This time, when she smiled at him, he liked her a lot more. "You are indeed worthy of a wand, dear boy. We will rectify Professor Snape and his company at the ball. For now, we have some work that needs to be done! Let us find some of your step-sibling's dresses, shall we?" she purred.
Harry led the professor to Draco's bedroom and took out some of his dress robes. He had worn his best light blue robes to the ball, just as Pansy had dressed in a pink frilly dress that looked absolutely ridiculous. Professor Snape refused to wear anything but his plain black robes, as he was not there to impress the prince, only to "get rid of his parasites." Draco still had tonnes of dress robes in his closet. Harry was only a little shorter than he was and he only needed a couple to combine together. There was one emerald green dress, while there was another black one with a sparkling silver lining that caught Harry's eye, and he laid them both on the bed. "Professor, can you perhaps take the lace trimming from this black one and run the silver lining throughout the green in this one?" Harry asked, gesturing to each one as he spoke.
Humming as she thought, Professor McGonagall smiled, narrowing her eyes at the robes. "Yes, I can. It's pretty complicated Charms, but I can certainly do it! My nieces have demanded similar all the same." Harry's eyes brightened as he backed away from the bed. He watched her with interest as she whispered some magical words and moved her wand methodically. She fascinated him with her intense concentration. Then he caught sight of the dress robes, which had made a total transformation: the dress now had black lace trimmings around the edge of the robes; the emerald green practically glittered with the silver lining running through it. "This is perfect! Oh, thank you, Professor!"
"You're welcome, Harry. Allow me to show you how to use the Floo Network, since you haven't yet had the pleasure. Put on the dress robes, and then see me at the fireplace." She swept from the room. Harry undressed himself down to his pants, took the dress robes, and stood in front of Draco's mirror, holding the robes to himself for a while. He looked out of place like a peasant masquerading as a prince.
The mirror seemed to agree with him. "What are you doing here, rags?" it sneered. "Stealing Draco's clothes, are you? Sorry, pauper, but you aren't going to bag a prince!"
"Oh, shut up," he muttered as he pulled the dress robes over his head. He stuck his tongue out at it as he left the room to find McGonagall. "Professor?"
"Right, Potter, come here." Professor McGonagall looked him over and cringed. "I suppose there's nothing to be done about your hair. Here, take this powder, get into the fireplace, and yell the name of your destination as you throw the powder; in this case, it is Lancashire Castle. And Potter, be very careful about pronunciation." Harry nodded, grabbed the Floo powder, and yelled "Lancashire Castle" as he threw it down.
::: ::: :::
Travelling with Floo powder turned out to be the strangest thing Harry experienced, not that he had experienced much at the time. He fell to his knees as he arrived at the party and the usher—a kindly old man with half-moon glasses—looked down at him kindly. "Good evening, sir," Harry smiled. The usher extended a hand to help him up. Harry grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
"Thank you, sir," he said politely, bowing his head.
The usher looked pleasantly surprised and returned the gesture. "You're most welcome, sir. Follow me." The usher led him to the top of a rather large, intimidating stairwell. Harry stared down it, wondering how he would walk down them without falling down. The world seemed to stand still while he stood there. All of the dancing ceased, the violin and piano stopped playing, and all eyes were on him who dared disturb the dance later than was fashionable. An ecstatic voiced floated from below:
"Ah, he has finally arrived! Welcome, Harry Potter!"
Queen Augusta herself stood up to his presence and Harry had to suck in a startled breath as he started down the stairs. He saw the prince stand beside her after giving her a questioning glance. Harry didn't blame him; after all, it was unusual for the queen to stand up for anyone, let alone someone like Harry. He heard several people muttering around the room, saw his step-father scowl at him from across the room, and looked beyond all of them. His eyes were for the prince only and, as Harry stared at the prince, Prince Neville stared back at him. Finally, finally, he was at the last step, and then he was on solid ground again, and he closed his eyes, grateful, so very grateful. His moment was over, but Harry still felt breathless from it, his heart pounding. When he looked back up, Prince Neville was gone.
Harry stood in the middle of the floor awkwardly, looking back at all of the people looking at him. He glanced up at the band desperately and the violin screamed to life, followed closely by the twinkling sounds of the piano. He tried to move off to the side when his wrists were caught in a warm grasp of someone's hands. Harry gasped as he looked up. Prince Neville stood before him, looking down at Harry intently. "Would you grant me the honour of dancing with a beauty such as this?" he asked, gently brushing a hand down Harry's cheek. Harry nodded, for he could hardly speak.
They backed from each other and bowed before coming back together again. Harry naturally followed the prince's lead, ignorant of the rules of dance, but he found his place in Prince Neville's arms. It was at least half an hour before one of them spoke again, too comfortable in each others' arms. "I have never been blessed with such an honour, Your Highness."
"It is I who has been blessed, dear Harry, so please call me Neville," he pleaded. Harry's hand clenched on Neville's shoulder, shocked by his humility, and he smiled. "I have looked all this night, not yet have I found someone who is as beautiful and humble as you. Certainly, no one my grandmother would stand up for," Neville said with amusement.
"She called upon our household a fortnight ago, asking for our presence at your party. Her Majesty seemed quite upset that I had not been mentioned in casual conversation. Professor Snape—"
Neville looked at him with surprise. "I'm shocked! Surely Snape could not have produced such a lovely creature?"
Harry laughed. "Good Lord, no! He is my step-father, however, and Draco and Pansy are my step-siblings. None of them will be pleased with my presence here tonight." He spared them a glance, watching as Draco and Pansy flushed red with envy and Snape turned green. "My father and mother were James and Lily Potter."
"Ah, Gran tells me the Potters were a noble family who did their country justice. No doubt, you have great magical powers and you have inherited a gentleman's Galleon."
Blushing, Harry looked to the floor. "I'm afraid not. I have no wand, nor do I have a Galleon to my name. I have never heard of such an inheritance."
Shaking his head, Neville tilted Harry's head up. "Do not be ashamed. Gran and I will have this situation looked into. If there was one hint of abuse or neglect in that household, you will have the first choice of their punishment."
"No! I forgive them. I would never wish harm upon another person, Neville. You must realise that."
Neville nodded. "Of course, I should have realised how graceful and merciful you are. I must speak with Gran—excuse me."
With that, he rushed off, leaving Harry in the middle of the dance-floor. Harry stood there for about a minute before he saw Snape, Pansy, and Draco coming for him. "Those are my dress robes, you peasant," Draco growled at him. "What have you done to them?"
Pansy crossed her arms against her chest, laughing. "He's been touching them. He's probably tainted them with his dirty blood," she sneered. "You would be best off burning the rest of them. Thank God, he didn't get to your lucky ones!" Draco looked down at his dress robes and then glared at Harry.
"How dare you disobey orders? You were not given permission to destroy Draco's dress robes!"
Harry glared back at them. "You never told me not to either! Besides, I think I look bloody fashionable. It's the least you can do for me after the way you've been treating me all of these years!" Pansy reached out another hand to slap him. Harry grabbed her wrist. "There's no fireplace to push me into this time, Parkinson. I don't want to deal with it anymore. I was willing to forgive you for all of the horrible things you've done to me. This is how you repay grace." He released her, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. "Please, leave me alone. Do that for me, at least."
Snape stared down at him disgustedly with some strange softness in his eyes before he barked at Draco and Pansy. "Draco, Pansy, it's time for us to leave."
A warm body held Harry up as he began to fall, emotionally and physically drained by the length of the day. "I've got you," Neville whispered in his ear, propping him back on his feet. "Gran has an announcement to make." He held his cheek against Harry's endearingly, arms wrapped around his waist. "Listen."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, it has been a joyous occasion for Prince Neville this night. He managed to pick a suitable mate that I am sure he will be quite pleased with. Harry James Potter," Queen Augusta continued, but Harry could no longer hear what she was saying over the silence shouting in his ears.
"What do you say, Harry? Would you do me the honour of marrying me?"Harry turned in his prince's arms and pressed their lips together in a joyful kiss. It took both of them a few minutes to realise they were floating on air as fireworks burst above them.
Harry turned in his prince's arms and pressed their lips together in a joyful kiss. It took both of them a few minutes to realise they were floating on air as fireworks burst above them.
::: ::: :::
Professor McGonagall looked to the usher at her right, directing the celebration with her wand. "Do you think we did good, Albus?"
"I think this is the greatest little fairy tale young Harry could ask for, Minerva."
Finis.
::: ::: :::
(1) From The Trees They Grow So High, British folk song.
(2) From Calon Lân, Welsh hymn.