"Someone has beaten a giant," remarked Humperdinck. He and his men had reached the spot where Fezzik and the MIB had fought, but Fezzik was gone. Instead, there was just a big hole in the ground where his body had lain.
"Thank you, Prince Obvious," muttered Count Rugen.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"There will be great suffering in Guilder if she dies!" The Prince turned, making his tabard swirl dramatically, and vaulted back onto his horse to follow the footprints.
The WIB dragged Buttercup at a ridiculously fast pace along the cliffs, dodging the boulders that dotted the landscape. He dropped her quite suddenly. "Get your breath, Highness," he told her.
She sagged against a rock, gasping. "If you'll release me," she wheezed, "whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it, I promise you. Even if it's the answers to all the Potions tests you could ever have to take."
The WIB seemed to consider this seriously. "Really?"
She nodded. He mulled it over while she continued to inhale deeply.
"No," he said finally. "The Prince is a Slytherin, and I can't trust your word. You're probably a Slytherin too, or he wouldn't be your dearest love."
"I never said he was my dearest love!"
He stared at her thoughtfully. "You admit to me that you do not love your fiance?"
"He knows I do not love him."
"That's because you're not capable of love. You're a stinking Slytherin."
"I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream," she growled, trying to look into his eyes behind the mask. "And I am not a Slytherin!" She turned away as he raised a hand to strike her.
"That was a warning, Highness," he said coldly. "The next time I will not restrain myself, for where I come from there are penalties when a witch lies." He snatched her wrist and dragged her off once again.
The Slytherin Prince and his entourage had arrived at the scene where Vizzini's dead body still lay. Humperdinck picked up the empty container and sniffed. "Iocaine," he declared, "I'd bet my life on it!" He turned, pointed. "There are the Princess's footprints! She is alive, or was, an hour ago." His face turned broody. "If she is otherwise when I find her, I shall be very put out." He mounted his horse yet again and they set off.
"Rest, Highness," said the WIB, once again dropping his viselike grip on her wrist.
"I know who you are," she cried. "Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate Weasley; admit it!"
He bowed. "With pride." He smiled at her maliciously. "What can I do for you?"
"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces." Her tone was deadly cold.
"Tsk, tsk. Hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why loose your venom on me?"
"You killed my love." A trace of sadness pierced the arctic tones of her fury.
"It's possible," he replied carelessly. "I kill a lot of people." He strolled away from her slowly, considering.
"I remember this love of yours, I think," he mused. "This would be what, five years ago?" He turned, saw her downcast face. "Does it bother you to hear?"
"Nothing you say can upset me."
"He died well; that should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said, 'Please. Please, I need to live.' I asked what was so important to him. 'True love,' he replied." She glanced up at him. The WIB stared down at her impassively.
"And then," he continued, "he spoke of a girl of surpassing intelligence and faithfulness; I can only assume he meant you. Oh, you should bless me for killing him before he found out what you really are."
She stood then, faced him. "And what am I?" she demanded.
"Faithfulness he talked of, madam, your enduring faithfulness! Now tell me truly, when you found out he was dead, did you get engaged to your prince that same hour? Or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"
"Don't you dare to mock my pain! I died that day!" The WIB looked at the white-hot anger and pain rising in her face. A strange expression flicked across his features, as though he truly believed her. Suddenly he turned and stared across the cliffs, where he could see Humperdinck and his men beginning to close in.
Buttercup was not watching them. "You can die too, for all I care," she whispered heatedly, and with every ounce of strength in her arms, she pushed him off the cliff.
He rolled and bounced down the steep incline, and as he did, she could hear him call out to her.
"As...you...wish."
Below her in the ravine, she saw him remove his mask. A headful of red hair gleamed in the pale light of the rising sun.
"Oh, my sweet Westley, what have I done?" she breathed. And down she went after him. She tried to run but quickly lost her footing and, like Westley, tumbled over and over until she lay sprawled at the bottom, near her beloved.
"They've disappeared!" exclaimed the Prince in surprise. "He must have seen us closing in, which would account for his panicking into error. Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong, they are headed dead into the Forbidden Fire Swamp."
On the ravine floor, Westley crawled over to Buttercup and cradled her gently in his arms. "Can you move at all?" he asked anxiously.
"Move? You're alive...if you want, I can fly." They embraced tenderly, and he shook his head at her.
"I told you I would always come for you," he chided her softly. "Why didn't you wait?"
"Well...you were dead. That's usually a permanent sort of thing."
"Death cannot stop true love," he informed her. "All it can do is delay it for awhile."
"I will never doubt again," she promised.
"There will never be a need." He smiled and bent to kiss her.
"Hold it, hold it!" said Hermione, irritably.
"What is it?" asked Dumbledore.
"What exactly is this, anyway? Why is Ron playing Westley...and I'm Buttercup? And we're kissing...we've never kissed, certainly not like that!"
"I don't know," Dumbledore replied with a shrug. "May I remind you, Miss Granger, that this is your dream? I'm just the narrator."
Hermione blushed. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."
"We can stop now, if you want," he offered.
"No...you can read a bit more...if you want."
"Okay," he said. "Buttercup and Westley raced along the ravine floor..."
They paused, briefly, to glance upward at the search party. "Your Slytherin fiance is too late," said Westley, triumphantly. "A few more steps, and we'll be safe in the Forbidden Fire Swamp!" They began to run once more.
"We'll never survive," said Buttercup.
"Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has."
"It took nearly 24 hours," Dumbledore continued, "but at last they reached the other side of the swamp."
"Huh? Don't we get to hear about that?" asked Hermione, puzzled.
"Apparently not. This seems to be the abridged version."
It had been an interesting trip, in which Westley had explained to Buttercup that he had joined forces in his absence with the Dread Pirate Weasley, and had inherited the title. The Dread Pirate Weasley was the king of the sea, who sailed around on his ship, the Gryffindor. According to all the rumors (as was stated earlier), he never left captives alive. "Actually," Westley explained, "that's only a vicious rumor. Neither I nor any of the other Dread Pirate Weasleys ever killed anyone, it's not noble. What we do is take people captive and make them crew members for a couple years at a time, then turn them loose. They have to promise never to tell the truth, though. And everybody sings a really spirited song about piracy on their last night on the ship; it's called 'Weasley Is Our King.' But now that we're together, I'm going to retire and give the title to somebody else, and you and I will go live on that farm I promised you." All this he told her as they crossed the swamp together.
By the time they reached the far side of the Forbidden Fire Swamp, they were quite disheveled. Westley had a rather nasty gash on one shoulder from an unfortunate encounter with a S.O.U.S. (Spider of Unusual Size), and Buttercup had accidentally fallen into a large patch of snow sand and had to be rescued, but apart from that they were alive and together and they had done it. They looked at each other with profound relief, and were about to kiss again when Humperdinck rode into view. Westley stepped in front of Buttercup, his wand at the ready.
"Surrender." The Prince's voice was drawling and cold.
"You mean, you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept," said Westley.
"I give you full marks for bravery," said Humperdinck. "Don't make yourself a fool."
As Westley and Humperdinck bantered back and forth, Buttercup observed the soldiers moving in to surround them. Finally, she interrupted them. "Will you promise not to hurt him?"
"What?" This from both men.
"If we surrender, and I return with you to Slytherin Castle, will you promise not to hurt this wizard?"
"May I live a thousand years and never laugh at anyone again."
"He is a sailor with the pirate ship Gryffindor," she added. "Promise to return him to his ship!"
"Yes, yes, whatever." He turned and whispered to the Count. "When we're out of sight, take him into custody and drag him down to the Dungeon of Despair."
"Only because you asked so nicely," the Count replied.
Buttercup looked into Westley's deep blue eyes. "I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again - not when I can save you." Before either of them could say anything else, the Prince scooped her up onto his horse and galloped away with her.
Westley watched them go, his heart in his eyes. Then he felt the tip of a wand against his back, and immediately realized what was happening. "I know, you're not taking me to my ship. Don't bother lying; it doesn't suit either of us."
Count Rugen smiled. "Well spoken, sir." Then he reached over and clubbed Westley into unconsciousness, but not before Westley noticed that the Count's eyes were red, almost glowing.
Buttercup sulked for several days after returning to Slytherin Castle. Old King Lucius, it must be remembered, was in poor health, and Prince Humperdinck offered this as the explanation for her melancholy. He wasn't stupid, of course, but the people adored their Princess and he had to make things look good. Meanwhile, plans for the wedding progressed.
Westley, meanwhile, was chained in the Dungeon of Despair, where the count entertained himself by torturing his prisoner. The prince often came to watch, and join in. He seemed to take special delight in harassing Westley about the state of his clothes; they were frayed and patched in places, probably quite old. He also liked to tease Westley about being poor, and unable to support Buttercup in the manner to which she had grown accustomed. Westley, for his part, tended to keep his mouth shut.
Then came the day they tested something on Westley called the Machine. It placed him under a spell that left him in horrible, agonizing pain. Every time it happened, he writhed and screamed and years dripped away from his lifespan.
"Excuse me, Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Why has all of this become so abbreviated? I mean, isn't it supposed to last a little longer?"
"We're summarizing," Dumbledore explained. "I think our writer is trying to get to the good parts. Shall I continue?"
"Okay..."
Buttercup began to have terrible nightmares, in which she received terrible grades in all of her old school classes because the teachers didn't approve of how she had treated Westley. ("How awful," Hermione thought.) One morning, she woke up screaming from the sight of another failing mark and a note from the teacher saying "Your true love lives, and you marry another! You don't deserve to pass this class!" Later, on reflection, she decided this was very strange. At the time, however, it scared her senseless, and she ran down the hall to Prince Humperdinck's chamber.
"It comes to this," she said. "I love Westley. I always have and I know now that I always will. If you say I must still marry you in ten days, I will be dead by morning. I'll stand in front of a mirror and use the Killing Curse."
The Prince looked dumbfounded. "Well, then, here's what we'll do," he said pleasantly. "Let's send owls off in each direction, with messages inviting him to come back and claim you. If he does, so be it. If not, you'll marry me and be Queen."
Buttercup brightened. "You'd do that for me? Really?"
"No." He smiled wryly. "Sorry, my Princess, but I just can't have you dumping me for a commoner. Family honor and all that, you know." He stopped smiling then, and siezed her roughly by the arm. With a look of hell-bent fury, he marched her down the corridor and locked her in a small chamber where he knew there were no wands with which she could hurt herself. He then took off running to the Dungeon of Despair.
"That's not how it goes," Hermione objected.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but this is what I've been given to work with."
