You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold

From the song, "Fields of Gold" by Sting

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 10: Stay

Four months.

It had been four bloody months since he'd set foot in Camlann Castle and as far as Draco could tell, he'd traded one prison in the Himalayas, for another one in Gwynedd, Wales. Eldorf had been relentless since they'd arrived, keeping Draco busy with grueling studies, arduous hunting expeditions for Graphorn and endless duels with Harry Potter. Not to mention countless meetings with the Heads of the Ancient Houses. But the worst of it was the hippogriffs. Eldorf had been adamant that Draco was to keep up the royal tradition of breeding hippogriffs for use in polo matches.

Draco snorted.

First off . . . he hated polo. Not that he'd ever personally played, but he'd read about it in the Royal Library and had decided that his second Royal Decree would be to outlaw the game outright. For one thing, hippogriffs were really smelly . . . a horrible combination of sweaty feathers and what Draco figured to be the scent of fresh ferret blood. And for another thing, it was sodding ridiculous . . . swooping around on a ghastly beast and hitting a little flying ball with a big, long stick. Eldorf had taken great delight in showing him a painting of one of his ancestors, King Ulpres IX, taking a stick to the face and then falling gracelessly from his flying, feathered steed. A horrified Draco had shouted at Eldorf to cover the damned thing up, but the little wizard then had the nerve to admonish him saying that he was going to have to "buck up, boyo", because if Draco wanted to be taken seriously as a monarch, he was going to have to play the game.

He'd had nightmares about it for weeks.

At least Potter was only at Camlann Castle for a day or two at a time. Then he'd conspire with Eldorf, only to disappear again for weeks to do only Merlin knew what. Eldorf had muttered something about a recruitment effort, but was reluctant to say anything more until he'd conferred with Potter . . . something about "seeing which way the wind blows".

Whatever that meant.

Draco figured that whatever they were up to, they'd better hurry as things were finally coming to fruition. Next week he'd be crowned as Prince and perhaps then, he could finally direct his own destiny.

His first order of business would be to announce his engagement to Ginny Weasley.

Sighing, he turned from the window seat in his vast bedroom and regarded the young woman currently occupying his bed. Ginny, in typical fashion, was tangled in the sheets and duvet, which caused the bed to look as mountainous as his current view of the northern Welsh countryside. Her copper hair was an unholy mess around her face and he could just make out her generous lips, pouting as she slept. The bedlam she presented caused his heart to ache with longing.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to live without her.

And he was no closer to figuring out how to transform Ginny Weasley into Princess Ginevra of Avalon. At first he'd hoped to have an ally in Eldorf, or "Dorfy" as he'd taken to calling him in his head. But soon it became clear that Eldorf was nothing if not a traditionalist and Draco knew there was no way he was going to approve of Ginny Weasley. While Eldorf of Gwynedd did not interfere with Ginny's "visits" to Camlann Castle, he'd been cool and distant, yet nobody could have accused him of being outright rude.

Instead, Malfoy had kept his plans for Ginny strictly to himself . . . until recently. He grinned to himself in anticipation of his plans. Hermione had taken up the cause and if her efforts in the downfall of Voldemort were any indication, she would not give up until she figured a way out of his dilemma.

Friendship with Hermione had its own rewards, but her ability to get him out of a pickle was fast becoming his favorite. After all, it was because of Hermione that he was no longer trapped with Harry Snotter in the Himalayas. And while they weren't much closer to figuring out who had tried to kill him, at least he could freely move about in public, as long as Hermione's anti-Antequam Eructo spell was cast beforehand.

Nobody was going to be blowing up Draco Malfoy anytime soon.

As usual when presented with an unpleasant thought, he turned his mind toward something that made him happy . . . in this case, contemplation of marriage to Ginny. Of course, there was so much going against the Weasley Clan. For one, they'd completely forsaken their pureblood values in favour of mixing with the Muggles, and not just in the platonic sense. Draco had the feeling that if Charlie Weasley wanted to marry the ghost of Elvis Presley, he'd have Arthur's blessing. Molly's reaction would be somewhat less certain, but still . . . perhaps she'd capitulate to the idea if Elvis promised to sing, "Love Me Tender" at the wedding.

Draco snickered, pausing in his daydream to imagine that silly scene.

Secondly, there was the question of Ginny's virginity . . . which sounded rather redundant to Draco's ears. Or, in this case, her lack of virginity, if you wanted to look at it another way. He'd read enough about the barbaric royal traditions to know that he was expected to marry a virgin.

Draco let out a quiet huff. As if there was a virgin in wizarding Britain who wasn't under the age of 15 or older than 100! Well . . . if he had to marry a virgin, he'd just have to make one up.

Ginny began to stir and made the most delicious moaning sounds. Draco approached the bed and reaching out, he caressed the tousled hair out of her face. At his touch, Ginny sleepily opened her eyes, blinking several times until her vision cleared. Smiling sensuously, she reached up to cup his cheek as he simultaneously leaned over to give her a slow, deliberate kiss.

"How long have you been up?" she asked, her voice still graveled from sleep.

"For a while now. It's almost nine o'clock."

Ginny sat up abruptly, giving a delighted Draco a nice view of her naked torso. He felt a sharp stab of want, which was quickly extinguished when she reached for her dressing gown, lying crumpled at the foot of the bed. She hastened to put it on.

Noticing his mope, she laughed. "You're insatiable, you brute! As if staying up half the night wasn't enough for you."

Draco gave her a rueful look.

"It's just that I only get to see you on the weekends," he grumbled. "I can't wait until we're married so we can spend every night in our bed. If you think you're tired now-- "

He smirked.

Ginny's facial expression suddenly turned hopeful. "Are you saying you've figured out how to get around that ol' "virgin" thing? At least we've got Harry's promise never to reveal that he was my first. And I know he'll never tell."

Draco inwardly winced at the mention of Harry Potter's "Grand Gesture". Over his protests, Ginny had approached Harry, who'd graciously offered his total silence, if not his willingness to outright lie about their previous intimate relationship. While a part of Draco had been grateful, another part of him had resented Potter playing the noble gentleman. But it had served to soothe one of his worries on the subject: Ginny had assured him that nobody outside Potter, Hermione and Draco knew that she and Harry had once been lovers. There had been speculation in the press . . . especially that morning she'd been caught sneaking out of Harry's house, but in reality, she'd never spoken of it to anyone except to her best friend and to Draco.

"No," he said in answer to Ginny's question. "I haven't figured it out. But Hermione had a couple of intriguing ideas. She said that I couldn't be the first Royal to be in this position. She said that given my Malfoy ancestry, somebody in the family probably figured out a way to fool the Royal Physician into accepting a non-virgin."

Ginny gave him a pained look. "Now tell me again why I have to subject myself to a very unwanted physical exam?"

"Because you have to be certified."

"Oh, yes . . . that's what I thought you said. I'm going to be a Certified Virgin now. The world can sleep peacefully at night, knowing that," she said sarcastically. Muttering, she added, "If that isn't the most ridiculous thing."

Draco gave her an insolent look. "We can hang your Certificate on the wall if you'd like . . . right next to the one you got from Hogwarts. I'll get you a nice frame."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Very funny." Side-stepping a playful swipe from Draco, she headed towards the bathroom. It was one of the modern conveniences that had recently been added to Camlann Castle. "While this has been fun," she said, "I must clean up and fetch Hermione from Hogsmeade. You'll have to keep Eldorf occupied while I sneak her in. She says nobody except Severus can know that she's here. That way, she'll be able to research the Library with no questions asked."

Draco nodded. "I have a feeling that I'm going to spend the rest of my life hiding stuff from Eldorf the Nosy. Perhaps I'll send him on some errand and we can have the castle to ourselves."

Giving him one last smile, Ginny disappeared into the bathroom.

Draco quickly dressed to go downstairs. Eldorf had informed him that he needed a royal valet to "serve him breakfast in bed" and help him dress for ceremonial occasions but as the sounds of Draco's bellowing protests were clearly heard by the House Elves three stories away, Eldorf had quickly backed down. He'd gone away muttering something about knowing which fights to fight and which ones to drop.

Royal tradition or no royal tradition, there were just some things that Draco Malfoy was never going to do. Letting someone else dress him in the morning was one of them.

Unless it was Ginny.

Making his way to the Grand Hall, he noticed that Eldorf was in conference with several house-elves. They were apparently conferring on the menu for the banquet, which was to occur after the coronation. Eldorf broke away from the group and greeted Draco cheerfully.

That completely stopped Draco in his tracks and served to put him on guard.

Eldorf bowed low as he approached him. "My lord, we're just making final preparations. And I had the house-elves prepare a room for Lady Snape. In her delicate condition, she may want to take a nap this afternoon."

Draco looked at him in dumbfounded silence until he managed to croak, "How in the world did you know Hermione was coming today?"

Eldorf gave him a creepy, enigmatic smile. "There is not much that passes me by, my Lord. You would do well to remember that when you're trying to pull the wool over my eyes, so to speak. For instance, I have it on good authority that Lady Snape will only be staying until this evening. Am I correct?"

"Yes, yes! Uncle Severus will be by to collect her tonight. Now if you're done giving me the willies, I have things to do."

Eldorf gave a furtive look around the Grand Hall before answering. "We have other things we must discuss," he said quietly as he led Draco to a chair at one of the tables. "My sense is that you haven't thought things out thoroughly, where Miss Weasley is concerned. For instance, you do realize that I know she's not a virgin. That's pretty obvious considering she's been in your bed almost every weekend since we left Nepal. You must be frantic to figure a way out of your fix."

"Stop living inside my head, you little parasite!" Draco shouted.

The diminutive wizard reached over to affectionately pat Draco's hand. "My boy," he said quietly. "I'm not against you. I know you love her. I just wish that you could have chosen someone more suitable. It is not me you have to worry about, but your mother and the Ancient Houses. It's an impossible situation and I don't want to see you get hurt. Why can't you just accept her as a mistress? Many great monarchs have had powerful, prominent mistresses."

Draco shook his head. "I would never insult her like that. I'm going to find a way around this and you're either with me or against me. And I don't ever want to hear you mention the state of Ginny's virginhood to anyone." He leaned closer to Eldorf and snarled, "This is your chance to elevate the House of Gwynedd to its former glory once again. Do not cross me in this matter. Ginevra Weasley will be my wife and if you interfere, I'll see that you go down in flames . . . even if I have to go down with you. Remember what I did to Voldemort."

Eldorf just smiled benignly. "As you wish," he said. "I am your servant, not your keeper. But my advice to you is for discretion. There are those who would love to know the truth about Miss Weasley, starting with the licentious press."

"I'll handle the press," muttered Draco. "In fact, Lady Snape has vast experience in handling the press, going back to our Hogwarts days." He visualized Rita Skeeter in a jar. "I'm thinking of making Hermione my Press Secretary."

Eldorf chuckled. "A wise choice," he said. "You must surround yourself only with those you can completely trust. Lady Snape is above reproach."

For the first time, Draco felt a pang of affection for the little wizard. "You really do only have my best interests at heart."

"You will be King someday. I want you to be a good one," said Eldorf, as he got up from his chair.

"Thanks Dorfy, erm . . . I mean, Master Eldorf. I plan to make you proud. Now if you'll excuse me."

Draco could feel Eldorf's eyes on him as he began to walk away from the table. He heard the little wizard mutter one word as he exited the hall.

"Indeed."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Narcissa Malfoy bolted upright in bed, her breathing harsh and sweat pouring down her neck.

She'd had the most terrible nightmare.

"Malfoys don't sweat," she thought fleetingly, before another thought imediately followed.

I'm not a Malfoy. I'm not even a Black.

Looking down at her companion, she settled herself against his sleeping form, careful not to awaken him.

If anybody finds out the truth, many lives will be ruined.

It had been four months since that fateful night that Sirius Black had invaded her bedroom. Four months of major mental and emotional adjustments and she was still terrified that the truth of her life was going to eventually come out.

She shuddered as she remembered the onslaught of memories that had assaulted her when Sirius had thrown the Pensieve on the wooden floor. Those memories had flooded her consciousness in an instant and had served to disorient her in such a way that she'd thought she was going quite mad. In a blink of an eye, everything she thought to be true was proven false. And she'd been filled with equal parts terror, anger and love for the man that she'd always thought was her first cousin.

He'd held her closely then, soothing her as she'd shaken and cried and remembered a past that had long been forgotten.

"Narcissa," he'd said tenderly. "Please don't cry. I just want to know what happened. I want to know why it happened. You're the only person who can tell me that."

She'd swiped her hair out of her face and taking a shaky breath, she'd told him, "I don't even know where to begin."

He'd reached to hug her closely again. She remembered the scratchy feel of his robe and the pleasant scent of his aftershave. Pulling away from her, he'd searched her face for a moment before saying, "Why don't I tell you what I know from the Pensieve? I know that we've been lovers in the past. I know that you're not my cousin, that you're actually the daughter of Jeremy Evans. Do you remember that?"

She'd nodded wordlessly.

"I also know that you told me that you were pregnant with my child. I was so shocked and upset by that . . . I'm sorry I broke the Pensieve, but you must fill in the gaps for me."

Narcissa had pulled away from him and getting up from the bed, she'd reached down to the broken Pensieve and had pulled up a piece of the ceramic. "I don't remember this Pensieve," she'd said softly. "But I know who probably made me put my memories there. I imagine I was forced to use that Pensieve by Lucius Malfoy." She'd turned to Sirius and saw that his handsome face had hardened into a hateful mask.

"I thought so," he'd whispered harshly.

Narcissa had taken note of his anguish and was greatly moved to comfort him. She'd walked over to him and had reached out to caress his face before continuing with the story. "I suppose that you, more than anyone, can remember what the climate was like, twenty-five years ago. While first cousins in the Muggle world were permitted to marry in England, we were not. There'd been increasingly more stillbirths and squibs were being born to pureblooded wizards at an alarming rate. Marriage was strictly regulated. For too many years, family lines had crossed each other, until we were so inbred that it was affecting our health."

Sirius had nodded. "I do remember that. And I guess that's why we had to keep our relationship a secret in those days. It was very taboo."

"Yes," she'd answered. "And then came the day that I found out that I was not a pureblood, that my father was a Muggle. I can't begin to tell you how devastating it was to find out that Lily Evans was my half-sister. But you somehow made it seem like it was a new beginning for us. I felt like if I had you, I could face anything."

"I wish I could remember that," said Sirius. "I don't understand why I don't remember any of this. Do you know who tampered with my memories?"

Taking his hand, Narcissa had moved back over to the bed and sat next to him. "You aren't the only one whose memories were altered. You must believe me when I say that until five minutes ago, I knew nothing of what I'm about to tell you," she'd said in earnest.

"I believe you. I just need to know who is responsible for all of this."

Then she'd looked him straight in the eye and had told him the truth. "It was Lucius and my father. Or should I say it was Lucius Malfoy and Dominicus Black. I can never think of that man as my father ever again. If you'd stayed in the Pensieve longer, you would have learned that after I told you I was pregnant, they showed up at your cottage. My so-called father had suspected us for quite a while and Lucius . . . well, Lucius had been pursuing marriage with me for several months. It was quite an ugly scene."

She couldn't help it. Tears had begun to fall in earnest again and each memory was like the relentless sting of a hornet.

"Tell me more," Sirius had whispered, as he'd wiped her tears away with his thumb.

Keeping her eyes fixed firmly on his face, she'd continued the story. "Lucius stormed through the bedroom door and before we could even move, he cast a Binding Spell on you. He taunted you, saying he wanted you to hear everything. My father followed him in . . . Merlin! I remember putting on my robe and screaming at him to get the fuck out of the house, that he wasn't my father and that I was never going back. I can still hear him laughing in my head. He said that I was a stupid, stupid girl and that no Muggle bastard child was going to ruin his reputation or the reputation of the Black Family. And that's when he pulled me from the bedroom. I heard him tell Lucius to cast the Obliviate on you. Oh Gods! You were screaming, 'Let go of her' and 'No! No! Cissy come back!' I'll never forget the look on your face, as long as I live. I can't believe I ever forgot it."

Sirius began to tremble. "That I remember," he'd said quietly. "It's been in my nightmares for months."

By that time, Narcissa could not continue the story. She'd started sobbing and Sirius once again had comforted her until she could regain her composure.

"Everything happened very quickly after that," she finally told him. "Dominicus told me that I was to forget all about you and that if I pursued a relationship with you, or blabbed about my true parentage, he would see to it that you were eliminated."

"He threatened my life?"

"Yes and he also told me that I was to accept Lucius' marriage proposal. I told him that it was impossible and that I was pregnant with your child. He just shrugged and said he would inform Lord Malfoy of the situation. He said that it was up to Malfoy to decide what to do, whether he would raise the child as his own, or force me to get rid of it. Dominicus Black was quite content with how things had turned out. Apparently, Lucius' father had gambled away most of the Malfoy fortune and Lucius was keen on getting a hold of our wealth. Lucius was all about the money and nothing else. In return, my father was getting rid of his bastard child and grandchild as well as gaining the respect of the pureblood Malfoy name. As you know, the Malfoys ruled Britain for centuries. Dominicus was very impressed with that. So I had to make a choice: marry Lucius or seal your death. I married Lucius Malfoy a week later."

"Holy shit," Sirius had muttered. "It actually all makes sense now." He'd looked at Narcissa with haunted eyes. "So what happened to our child?" he asked quietly. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

For a few brief moments, Narcissa had considered lying to him. After all, this truth was much more devastating than the fact that she was not really a pureblood. But when she looked at his face, she could see that he loved her still and suddenly all the trust she'd ever felt towards him was as deep as that day they'd parted, all those years earlier.

"Lucius Malfoy was sterile," she finally told him, truthfully. "It appears that all that pureblood inbreeding had affected him as well. He was quite delighted to have an heir, even if he probably grew to hate him because of his real father. Remember how Lucius tried to kill Draco after the Final Battle? Well, I think we now know at least one of the reasons he was so willing to commit that blatant act of murder."

Sirius had a look on his face liked he'd just been doing loop-de-loops on a broomstick. "I have a son? Draco is my son?"

She'd nodded to him and for the first time in twenty-five years, she saw a genuine smile light his face. It had been dazzling. She remembered him gathering her in his arms as he murmured over and over again, "I'm a father . . . I'm a father."

And he'd been very happy. That was, until she'd explained to him that he could never acknowlege Draco as his son.

They'd argued for a while, until she'd convinced Sirius that Draco would hate him if he revealed his true paternity . . . not only would it mean that Draco's whole life had been a lie, but he would be declared a "Pretender to the Throne". It would completely ruin the boy.

"Are you ready to do that?" she'd asked. "Are you ready to completely uproot every so-called truth that Draco has ever known?"

And Sirius had certainly not been willing to ruin Draco's life.

"Perhaps it could work if I didn't publicly acknowlege the boy?" he'd asked.

At first Narcissa had told him only that she would consider it, but the last thing Sirius told her that night was that someday, after Draco was crowned, he would find a way to privately tell the boy that he was his father. And of course, he'd consult with Narcissa about the timing of that revelation.

"He has a right to know, my love," he'd told her. "I want to get to know my son properly. And besides . . . he and Harry are first cousins. You and Draco are now the only family that Harry has left, besides those dreadful Dursleys."

Feeling overwhelmed, Narcissa had decided that 'when the timing was right', they'd tell Draco everything. But now was not the time. They'd have to wait until he grew more powerful in his reign. And they'd have to scheme, to do it right.

And so they agreed to keep up the facade of hatred . . . to only see each other secretly and in complete disguise. Thus far, they'd managed to meet three more times in the last four months. Sirius was hungry to hear stories of Draco and Narcissa was delighted that, unlike Lucius, he seemed to really love and admire the boy. She'd mentioned to him that she didn't understand how Draco could look so much like Lucius, yet not be his son. Sirius had laughed at the irony of it, saying that he and Lucius were actually related -- their maternal great-grandmothers had been McNair sisters and portraits of the witches showed them to have the same pointy face and cold gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "Good old-fashioned pureblooded inbreeding," he'd commented. "Besides, he's got your hair."

Narcissa had really appreciated the humour of that. After all, she looked nothing like her supposed "sister", Bellatrix Lestrange. And now she understood why.

With each meeting she and Sirius grew more and more comfortable with each other. The last time they'd been together, they'd even snuggled closely on the couch, arms draped around each other while looking at photographs of Draco as a child. Narcissa's biggest adjustment was not so much that she was not a true Black, but that Draco was not a true Malfoy.

Every morning she had to re-orient herself to that fact.

And she was pleased . . . so pleased that Draco did not carry that bastard's blood . . . until she remembered that it was the Malfoy name that gave her son his stature in the wizarding world. She decided that to the outside world, he would always be a Malfoy, but that someday, he would know who his father really was. And it looked like Sirius was there to stay, with regard to his son. There was no going back.

It could have been so perfect. The last time she saw Sirius, she'd contemplated taking him back to her bed, but had decided that they needed more time to get to know each other again.

But then the unthinkable happened.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Narcissa spent the next hour awake in her bed, thinking about Sirius and Draco. Stirring next to her, the man who'd slept with her for the last two nights reached to her and pulled her close to his body.

"Narcissa," he said sleepily. "Why are you awake? Are you still worried about your little secret? You needn't worry. I can keep a secret just as well as Sirius Black."

Instead of seeing the face she longed for, it was Emile Zabini who smiled up at her.

The source of her nightmare.

How the fuck had she gotten into this mess?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Walking into the library, Draco beamed when he saw Hermione with her nose deep within a book. She'd been at Camlann Castle for the past ten hours and despite her pregnancy, she showed absolutely no sign of fatigue. In fact, she appeared to be completely within her element. She was firmly ensconced at a table in the Royal Library, surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves, and piles of books lay open all around her.

He would never forget the sight of Ginny leading Hermione down the path to the massive front door of Camlann Castle. After his conversation with Eldorf, he'd climbed up to one of the battlements to watch for them and had burst out laughing when they'd finally appeared over the last hill.

Camlann Castle was completely surrounded by the most powerful wards on Earth, which encircled the castle in a one mile radius. Hermione had fretted about the distance, knowing that she had to Apparate to the edge of the wards and then walk the mile down to the castle. Like Hogwarts, there was no Apparating directly into the castle. The difficulty lay in the fact that Hermione was currently eight months pregnant and in no condition for onerous exercise.

However, they'd managed to overcome that obstacle quite nicely. Apparently Ginny had cast a Mobilicorpus on Hermione and she'd floated behind the redhead, looking like a giant Buddha meditating under the Bodi Tree. One of the Snape house-elves was following closely behind, although it was wringing its hands and fussing over the mother-to-be in a most annoying fashion.

They'd made quite a sight.

Clearing his throat, he caught Hermione's attention as she looked up from her book. She gave him a wide, affectionate smile and he sat down next to her.

"Any luck?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm getting closer and closer. The problem has been finding the damned books, once they're referenced in other sources. You really must get someone in here to organize this library. It has the most amazing array of books, probably the best I've ever seen, but it's almost impossible to find anything."

Draco predictably rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to put that on my "List of Things to Do," right after "Have Hermione's father give me a root canal."

"Ha ha," muttered Hermione, looking back at her tome. "These books are dancing all around the subject, but I can't find anything that would restore the virginity to a non-virgin. I'm beginning to think it's a very obscure spell. However, this one here," she pointed to a thick musty book, "this one is very promising. It actually mentions a spell by name. But it doesn't have the incantation in it. I was just looking at the references when you so rudely interrupted me."

For the first time in months, Draco began to feel upbeat about the whole situation.

"That's the best news yet. What time is Severus coming to get you?"

"He's not," answered Hermione, a bit sheepishly. "Once it became apparent that this was going to take a lot longer than I'd thought, I had Loopy owl Severus and tell him I was spending the night. I asked him to come for me tomorrow evening. That should give me plenty more time to do some more digging. After all, once we find the incantation, I'll have to practice it and make sure it's perfect. I don't want to cause Ginny any physical problems. Can you imagine if I botch this spell?" She suddenly let out a very un-Hermione-like giggle.

"You might never be able to have sex with her again."

Draco shuddered. "Don't even joke about that," he said, his voice cracking.

Hermione stood up and gave a yawn and a stretch. "Where's Eldorf? I haven't seen him all day, except briefly at lunch and he seemed very distracted. Of course, that means I haven't had to lie to him either, which is fine by me. I don't like lying much. But it sure seems to come naturally to you," she added pointedly.

"Hermione, your Gryffindor tendencies are sometimes a real pain in the arse. Don't think of it as 'lying'. Think of it as 'righting a wrong'. You and I both know that this royal tradition of marrying a virgin is outdated and ridiculous . . . not to mention, impossible in this day and age. And not only is Eldorf spending the night in London, he knows exactly why you're here. He figured it out on his own."

"And you're not worried about that?"

Draco shook his head. "He was surprisingly understanding about it. I think his position is 'Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil.' In other words, he doesn't want to know the details and he isn't going to interefere. He had a meeting with the Minister of Magic and other government officials. They're apparently working on the details of the transfer of some of the governmental powers to the monarchy."

Draco gave her a wolfish grin.

"Too bad Ginny had to go back home this afternoon," he commented. "You and I are the only humans at Camlann Castle. There's no telling what kind of trouble we could get into. What would Uncle Severus think?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"He'd think you're a silly git for having lascivious thoughts over a pregnant woman. Then he'd probably poison you."

They laughed about that and Draco had been just about to make a snappy retort when Flukey, the Head House-Elf, entered the library lugging a very large portrait of Eldorf.

"What have you there, my fine elf?" asked Draco, in good humour.

"Master Eldorf wanted me to present this to His Majesty at precisely ten o'clock," squeaked the elf.

"Well . . . that's very nice, but it clashes with the decor of . . . every room in the castle. We'll just have to put it in the dungeons."

Suddenly, Portrait Eldorf gave a booming laugh. "SURPRISE!" he shouted. "Your coronation is in exactly one week, and while I'm not there in body, I'm certainly there in spirit. As Lady Snape has already left the premises, I thought this would be a good time to give you one last test before you're crowned."

At that, every candle, every magical lamp . . . everything that gave off light was completely extinguished.

"Eeeeeeel-doooooooooorf!" screamed Draco. "What the hell have you done now?"

Portrait Eldorf continued to giggle. "For your last lesson, you are to spend the next twenty-four hours in a completely magic-free environment. All spells have been given the ol' 'Finite Incantatum. The only thing still in place is the wards, of course. 'Safety First' is our motto!"

Cursing, Draco drew his wand and pointing it at the painting, he yelled, "Incendio!"

Nothing happened.

"Lumos!"

Nothing.

"Accio candelabra!"

Nothing still.

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!" he shrieked.

He could feel Hermione, making her way beside him.

"Honestly, Draco," she huffed. "You'd think that he'd left you here completely helpless. Muggles get along just fine without magic. You're such an unbelievable wussy, sometimes!"

"Well, I'm a blind wussy, then! I can't see a damned thing!"

He could almost hear her eyes rolling. "Flukey," she said gently. "I know you can see well in the dark. Please ask Lippy to go to my suitcase and bring me the butane lighter I packed. It's in the front pocket. And before you ask, Draco, yes I brought a Muggle lighter. I always carry basic Muggle devices. One never knows . . . "

"Miss smarty-britches," muttered Draco.

Flukey apparently bowed, but they couldn't see it. He said, "Not to worry, my Lady. I'll see to it."

"And take that bastard Eldorf with you," commanded Draco.

They could hear the portrait laughing all the way down the hall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, it's no use," thought Hermione.

She had absolutely no idea what time it was, since all the clocks in the castle were run by magic. She did know it was well into the middle of the night, as she'd lain awake for at least two hours, uncomfortably tossing and turning. Under normal circumstances, she had quite a bit of trouble finding a comfortable position for sleep, but it was even worse now as she was lying in a strange bed. And without Severus' soft, familiar snores, she just couldn't relax.

Getting herself up to a seated position, she huffed with exertion for a few moments before standing up. She'd managed to light a nice fire in the bedroom, although it had taken Draco an hour just to find suitable wood. She smiled to herself as she remembered his creative use of curse words throughout the whole process. And the spoiled git had never chopped firewood a day in his life. You would have thought he'd suffered a major battle wound, with all the complaints and moaning about the blisters on his hands.

Only some exaggerated exclamations and cooing by the house-elves had restored his mood. Flukey even found a thick, smelly salve to spread on the royal hands.

The big baby.

She took the candelabra off the fireplace mantle and lit it with her butane lighter. Thank goodness she had that thing! Now was not the time to be stumbling around a strange hallway. She had to keep her wits.

Quietly, she walked down the hall to the grand double doors that housed the future monarch of Britain.

Boy, is he ever going to be surprised to see me.

Opening the door, she could see that his fire was burning a lot brighter than hers had been. Looking over at his very large bed, she could just make out the figure of Malfoy, restlessly twisting around on the bed.

He appeared to be talking in his sleep.

"But Muuuum! I don't like vegetables in my salad! I'm not eating it and you can't make me!"

Good Lord . . . he even whines in his sleep!

Putting the candelabra on the table next to the bed, she gently nudged him.

"Psssst, Malfoy! Wake up!"

"Awwww Ginny! Not again! Isn't three times in a row enough for you?"

Hermione clamped a hand to her mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter. She didn't want to completely startle him, but on the other hand, the situation was getting rather desperate.

"Draco!" she said, much louder. "Get up! We have a situation here!"

Draco immediately sat straight up in bed. "Wha?" He vigorously rubbed his eyes before peering at her. "Hermione? What the hell? Is anything wrong?"

Just then Hermione was hit with a particularly hard contraction. Bending over in pain, she began to moan in an undignified manner. When she looked up, Draco had a wild-eyed expression on his face. Before she could even answer him, her water broke and she could feel the amniotic fluid running down her legs.

She started babbling. "It's no use. I tried to hold off, but it's not like you have any control over these things! I thought they were false, but they're not . . . it's the real deal . . . the contractions just kept coming and coming, but it's not supposed to be time yet and Oh Merlin, Draco! I'm in labour!"

Draco just stared at her as if she was a Disco-Dancing Death Eater.

Then he responded.

"NAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The word ended with a sob-like sound.

House-elves came running in all directions.

To be continued . . . .

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: I'm very sorry to end it here. I truly wanted to go on, but it would have made the chapter far too long. I promise to be more prompt, in light of the cliffie.

Thanks to all who have reviewed! And thanks to Elizabeth, as usual.