A Right Royal Mix-up

Summary:

She was a dead ringer for a runaway princess. So British tourist Lily Evans was hired to impersonate the missing monarch – at her arranged engagement to a real live prince! Riches galore would be Lily's during the royal masquerade. As would the company of the most romantic would-be bridegroom: Prince James Potter…

Regal, handsome, yet reluctant to wed without love, James enchanted tender-hearted Lily. And she selflessly wanted him to savour a storybook marriage when his true bride returned. So she wooed James – and won him – preparing to sacrifice all, but wishing her own fairytale would end happily ever after… with James as her husband…

            Here we are, chapter two. It's the same as in the censored version, so don't get your hopes up!

Disclaimer: As you may have gathered, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the books. Sue me if you like, but I only have 37 pence, my customised Doc Marten's and several annoying bratty brothers and sisters ( who you are welcome to!) The plot is based on 'The Princess Gets Engaged' by Tracy Sinclair, which I don't own either.

Chapter 2

                Prince James didn't share the general euphoria over his imminent engagement. He'd rejected the idea violently when his father first proposed it, and he hadn't become any more reconciled as time went by. Now, just days before he was to leave for Beaumarre, the prince made a last, desperate effort.

            "I'm pleading with you to reconsider, Father. This is the twentieth century, not the Middle Ages. How could you arrange my marriage without even discussing it with me first?" James raked his fingers through his already messy dark hair as he strode up and down the luxurious library of the family castle in Grandalia.

            "You've always had a strong aversion to the subject," the older man answered dryly.

            King Damien Potter was a distinguished-looking man. He had strong features and an air of authority befitting a king, but there were laughter lines in his face. His dark eyes could be cold and piercing, yet they could also brim with amusement. They held a mixture of compassion and impatience now as he gazed at his son.

            "I don't understand what this frantic rush is to get me married," James said resentfully. "It isn't as though I'll be ascending the throne anytime soon. You're going to reign for years."

            "God willing, but you never know. It's time for you to settle down and start a family."

            James's normally warm brown eyes were stormy. "I'm not ready to get married."

            "You're twenty-nine. You're as ready as you'll ever be."

            "Isn't that something for me to decide?" his son challenged.

            "That's what I've been waiting patiently for, without any result. You've had your pick of the most beautiful women on the Continent, but you've never been serious about any of them for more than a few months. What are you looking for?"

            "I don't know." James sighed. "Somebody special, I guess."

            "They've all been special," Damien said with a hint of irritation. "The actress, the Auror, the Quidditch player, the high-fashion model, the dancer..."

            "Would you have been happy if I'd married one of them?"

            "Did you love any of them?" Damien countered. When James didn't answer, his father said, "I thought not. If you had, you wouldn't have cared what I thought. We would be having a different sort of argument."

            "All right, so I've never been in love." James flung himself into a chair, but his long body remained tense. "It's something that simply happens. You can't just go out and look for it."

            "I thought that's what you were doing," Damien remarked ironically.

            "What else do I have to do with my time? Besides things like cutting a ribbon at the opening of the National Flower Show."

            "Ceremonial functions aren't always stimulating, but they're a necessity for someone in your position."

            "That's the whole trouble – I don't have a position," James said morosely. "I left Beauxbatons as Head Boy, then graduated from a distinguished university as a fully qualified Medi-Wizard, but my 'position' - as you so euphemistically put it – doesn't allow me to pursue a career. I'm a cardboard cut-out, something to be displayed to the populace as a coming attraction."

            The king regarded his son with sympathy. "I realise your job isn't stimulating. I can understand your frustration."

            "That's nice, but it doesn't change anything."

            "There might be a solution. King Claude and I have been discussing the possibility of building a new hospital by the river that separates our two countries, so both would benefit. As you know, present hospitals in the area are woefully inadequate."

            James's face came alive with interest. "It would save so many lives in the area, and cut down on the present long waiting lists. You've talked about it for years, but our two countries could never agree on the details."

            "We've moved a lot closer. There are still a few matters to be ironed out, but I think I can safely say the project will go forward."

            "Are you telling me I can work in it?" James asked eagerly.

            "I'm saying, perhaps you can help in some sort of advisory capacity," Damien answered cautiously.

            James's high cheekbones sharpened. "What you actually mean is, I'm graduating from cutting ribbons to unveiling a plaque and smiling for the cameras. I don't consider that much of an improvement."

            "You're being unreasonable. You have to consider your image, my boy. As the heir apparent to the throne of Grandalia, you can scarcely spend your days performing open heart surgery."

            "The world is changing, Father. Royalty is no longer merely ornamental. They work to make the world a better place to live. That's what I want to do – meaningful work. Surely that's not too much to ask?"

            "No, I suppose not. I can see your point and you've definitely given me something to think about," Damien replied slowly. "We'll explore the possibilities when you return from your honeymoon."

            "For a moment I thought you were actually listening to me!" James exclaimed. "I should have guessed this hospital idea was just a fantasy to keep me in line. Like promising a child an ice-cream cone if he'll stop whining."

            "I'd appreciate that," his father said dryly. "But I can assure you the hospital has nothing to do with keeping you happy. It's taken so long to come to fruition because King Claude and I had different opinions on many things. But we each made concessions and finally came to an agreement."

            "Was I one of the concessions?" James asked tautly. "I'm beginning to understand this sudden urgency to get me married – and your choice of brides."

            "You're being ridiculous! Gabrielle is a beautiful girl. She doesn't need her father to arrange a marriage. She could have her pick of men."

            "Yes, I've read about the one's she's picked," James drawled.

            "You're in no position to criticize. Your own exploits have gotten far too much of the wrong type of coverage. Both of you need to settle down and assume your responsibilities."

            "That may be true, but why did you have to choose Gabrielle? We detest each other."

            "Nonsense! You've never spent any real time together."

            "Why would anyone want to? She's spoiled, temperamental, and she makes a scene whenever she doesn't get her own way."

            "I'm sure you're exaggerating. Perhaps Claude has over-indulged her to some extent, but that's understandable. The poor child lost her mother while still in her formative years."

            "Gabrielle has been fully formed for a long time," James observed derisively. "Unfortunately, her behaviour is still around the nursery level."

            "This isn't getting us anywhere." Damien's impatience showed once more. "I can understand your reluctance to give up your carefree life-style. Whether you believe it or not, I was young once, too. But none of us can escape our responsibilities."

            "I'm aware of that, and if you'll just reconsider, I promise I'll change my lifestyle."

            "We've had this conversation before and nothing changes."

            "It will. I suppose I didn't realise you felt this strongly about it."

            "I'm not simply being arbitrary, son. I want you to live a productive life. You'll understand when you have children of your own."

            James's trapped feeling vanished when his father's attitude softened. The two had a very special relationship. They'd argued in the past, but they'd always been able to work things out.

            "I want children as much as you want grandchildren. Finding the right wife is the tricky part." He grinned.

            "I've already found one for you."

            James's amusement fled. "How can you expect me to marry Gabrielle after I told you how I feel about her?"

            "I think you resent the idea of marriage, not Gabrielle," Damien said calmly. "You'll get used to both of them after the shock wears off."

            James's jaw set ominously. "I've agreed to look for a wife. I will never agree to marry Gabrielle."

            Damien's temper flared at his son's open defiance. He didn't raise his voice, but there was no mistaking the implacable determination in it. "You don't understand. I'm not offering you a choice. As the sovereign ruler of Grandalia, I am giving you an order. You and your delegation will travel to Beaumarre to meet with Princess Gabrielle as scheduled. The arrangements have all been made and festivities planned. At the end of the week a formal announcement of your engagement will be made by King Claude, after which a date will be set for your wedding. Do I make myself clear?"

            "Perfectly clear, sire." James's rigid profile might have been carved out of granite. "May I have your permission to leave the room, Your Majesty?"

            Damien's eyes were sombre as they watched his son go through the door, the younger man's taught body radiating fury.

            Damien's wife joined him, looking quizzically at her husband's grim expression. Queen Rosamund Potter was a tall, regal woman with dark hair parted in the middle and drawn back from her patrician face. She looked unapproachable, but to the people who knew her well, she was warm and witty.

            "I gather that James is still resisting the idea of marriage," she remarked.

            "That's the understatement of the year," Damien answered wryly. "He refused adamantly."

            "So you lost your temper and gave him a direct order." She made a clicking sound with her tongue. "Honestly, Damien, you should know how to handle him better than that. James isn't a child."

            "All the more reason for him to act his age. He's known since childhood that he's obligated to marry and start a family. Heaven knows I gave him enough time to make his own choice. And he certainly had his pick of beautiful women. I don't know what he's looking for."

            Rosamund smiled. "True love."

            "Since there are no other candidates on the horizon, he can fall in love with Gabrielle. She's beautiful and she has a smashing figure."

            "I'm glad to hear you still notice such things." Rosamund laughed.

            "You know the old saying, my dear – I'm married, not dead." Damien's brief smile faded. "James and I used to be so close. We could always discuss any problems that arose. He has never blatantly rejected my authority."

            "I wouldn't worry about it. You both have hot tempers. When he cools off he'll realise you're only acting out of concern for him."

            "I thought I was, but now I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing the right thing," Damien said slowly.

            "It's a little late to start having second thoughts. Perhaps you should have convinced James before you spoke to Claude, but everything has been finalised."

            "If James is really that unhappy, though," Damien said hesitantly.

            "He's your son. He doesn't like to be told what to do."

            Damien looked at his wife sharply. "You agreed with me when I discussed the matter with you."

            "You had already made up your mind," she answered evasively.

            The king's jaw firmed. "Somebody has to make the hard decisions, whether they're popular or not."

            Since there was nothing she could do about it, Rosamund hid her trepidation. "I'm sure everything will turn out fine," she said soothingly.

            The queen's prediction seemed unlikely. James's black mood persisted all that night and into the next day. He remained withdrawn, taking long, solitary walks around the extensive grounds to avoid everyone, even his equerry and best friend, Remus Lupin.

            An equerry was a member of the court who provided a variety of cervices to one of the highly placed nobles, like James. In some royal houses the position carried no responsibility beyond agreeing with the prince and seeing that everyone else did, too. But Remus kept James grounded in reality. He didn't hesitate to voice his opinion when he felt the prince was on the wrong course.

            It often led to arguments, but the two men were closer than brothers, although their temperaments were directly opposite. James was volatile and impatient, while Remus was even-tempered and unflappable. He'd usually been able to smooth over any crisis that arose – until now.

            After watching in concern as James retreated into his private hell, Remus finally said with determined enthusiasm, "Why don't we go out tonight and party hearty?"

            James smiled mirthlessly. "A last fling for the condemned man?"

            "Why not? It's better than sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself."

            The prince's expression hardened. "I'm sorry I'm not a barrel of laughs," he said coldly.

            "You know that isn't what I meant. I just thought it might make you feel better to get out and be with people instead of hanging around here alone. You're even shutting me out."

            James's expression softened as he looked at his friend's concerned face. The two men were the same age, but their appearance was as different as their temperament. Remus was boyish looking and easygoing, with an infectious smile that was very appealing.

            "This is no reflection on you," James told him gently. "I'm simple not fit to be around anyone right now."

            "I'm not just anybody," Remus protested. "We've been through good times and bad together. This is one of the bad times and I want to share it with you."

            "Unfortunately you can't. But you're right about sitting around." James paced the floor restlessly. "I have to get out of here. Call down and have my Nimbus 1000 brought around. And inform my parents that I won't be dining with them." He smiled sardonically. "That ought to be a relief."

            Remus slanted an oblique look at him. "Where are you going?"

            "I don't know. I'll decide when I get on my broom. Maybe I'll fly to Bienville and scope out the enemy."

            "You'll be there in two days."

            "As if I could forget!" James's mouth twisted bitterly. "Don't worry, I'll show up in my royal finery, like the obedient little prince that I am. Do you think Father would take that as a sign of maturity?"

            "Come on, James, lighten up."

            "That's what I intend to do." James exchanged his silk shirt and tailored slacks for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "See you around, buddy."

            Remus sighed. "I can think of better ways to spend the evening, but if that's what you want to do, I'll come with you."

            "Not this time."

            "Be reasonable, James. You can't go running around alone. Your father would have my head on a stick if anything happened to you."

            James grinned, almost naturally for the first time. "Not to worry. I've already used up all my bad luck."

Did you enjoy that? If you did, review! If you didn't, review anyway and tell me what I did wrong. It'll never get better if you don't!

In the next chapter, we get some L/J action of a kind…

"I sold it for a bean. It was a pickled bean…"