AN: Here goes story 25. I'm running out of inspirations. But I'll make sure and make it to 50, for all you who take the time to read this stuff. If you're reading and not reviewing, please, review, for me? It'd make my day to see some new faces (not that I don't love all of you who are reviewing everytime!), just so I can get some more opinions. Keep reading, keep reviewing, keep doing what your doing.

Lotsa love, touchtheskyx
xx

Fairytales

Rating: K

Sometimes I wish my life was like the fairytales my mom used to read me. You know how it goes: The princess (likely beautiful, codependant, slightly ditzy, of noble parentage and therefor very rich and living in a castle)goes through a tradgedy (ideally something to do with stepmothers, needles, apples, spells or pirates) and her knight in shining armor comes to rescue her (preferably riding a white horse, bearing gifts or curing the said princess problems with a loving kiss). Then they ride off into the sunset (on said preferred white horse) and they live happily ever after. The end.

There are alot of problems with that pretaining to my life. Firstly, I'm not a princess. I'm not beautiful, I can fend for myself and my parents are muggles. Hardly noble in the wizarding world. I do, however live in a castle, so there's one point to my fairytale ending.

Make that half a point, considering the castle is old and creaky, the suits of armor try to trip you in the halls and the servants are elves.

The second problem is I haven't been through any major tragedies. I don't have an evil stepmother, or any stepmother at all, I am very careful around needles, apples make my face swell as I'm allergic to them, I happen to know a few spells myself, and I think there are laws in Britain outlawing pirates.

The third problem is the big one: no knight in shining armor. Every girl wants a guy to come and sweep her off her feet. The thing is, the only guy that wants to sweep me off my feet is James Potter, and if he touched even so much of me as my foot he would be recieving that foot in the gut. The closest thing he has to a white horse is a broomstick. The only thing he's given me that's even been close to a gift is a note he chucked at my head in sixth year asking me out. If he tried to kiss me the foot that I was planning on planting in his gut would be lowered to the general region of his manhood.

And the happily ever after? Considering the first three things aren't working for me, I'm sure the fourth is hopeless. Unless Potter suddenly desides to don leggings and a ruff, buy a white horse and adopt an attitude suitable to the heir of the thrown, it's hopeless.

I take that back, I don't want to see the leggings.

Like I said, hopeless.

AN: That was quite possibly the most pointless thing I've ever written. Not very good, but hopefully fluffy enough to earn me a review. Don't be to hard on me, school's melting my brain. Oh, and it was Lily narrating, if you didn't figure it out.