Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges Listed at the Bottom
Word Count: 3400
True Love's Kiss (and other fairytale nonsense)
"What in the seven levels of hell are you doing?"
Harry grinned cheerfully at his friend through the mirror he was intently staring into, and then turned his attention back to what he was doing.
Which was making his ears long and pointy.
"Hermione," Ron whined, as his girlfriend joined them in the living room. "Harry's being weird again."
"Harry is unique and precious and we're lucky to have him," Hermione intoned as she did every time Ron complained about Harry doing something decidedly odd.
Like making his ears all pointy.
Then she glanced at Harry. "But really, Harry, what are you doing?"
"Getting ready for a cosplay event," Harry replied happily.
"With pointy ears?" Ron asked. "You damn nerd!"
Harry turned to glance at Ron. "You are not my favourite person today."
Ron shrugged. "I'm not your favourite person any day. I've learned to live with it."
"You are, sometimes," Harry disagreed. "Like that day you fetched me all of the ice cream because I was sad."
"Okay, but Hermione and Ginny were both on holiday and Kingsley was busy at the Ministry."
Harry thought for a minute. "That is true. But you were still my favourite person that day, which proves if you were nicer to me, you'd be my favourite person more often."
"But then I wouldn't be able to take the piss out of your ridiculous costumes," Ron pointed out. "Doesn't seem like a fair trade-off. Are you giving yourself wings right now?"
"I'm being a fae prince, Ron, of course I'm giving myself wings."
Ron blinked. "Right, because I'm the one being unreasonable right now. Silly me. You need to get laid, mate."
Hermione shook her head. "You know Harry is a hopeless romantic, Ron. Until Kingsley realises that he's madly in love with Harry, Harry isn't going to be getting it on with anyone except perhaps his hand."
"Hermione!" Ron and Harry protested in sync, Harry dropping his wand as he did so.
"Is it really so bad that I'm looking for love?" Harry asked, stooping to pick up his wand, his conjured emerald green wings—to match his eyes, obviously—fluttering prettily on his back. "Real love? Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love? Is it really so unrealistic?"
"Oh no, of course it's not, Harry," Hermione replied softly. "You'll find it, I know you will. And if you don't want to 'get laid' until you find what you're looking for, then that's fine too."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Even if that means I gotta start calling you Tink."
Harry snorted. "I should have never introduced you to Disney. You've got a new bloody nickname for me every week."
"I think Bambi lasted the whole winter actually, Harry," Hermione couldn't help but point out, her eyes gleaming as she remembered Harry's unsteadiness on the ice and Ron's gleeful laughter. "And you've gotta admit, he had a point."
Grumbling under his breath with question to his chosen friends, Harry turned his attention back to the mirror. He just couldn't get the wings to look like he wanted them to look.
"So, have you heard from your handsome prince today?" Ron asked after a moment's silence.
Harry sighed. "No. Elections are coming up, aren't they? He's hella busy at the Ministry at the moment. I haven't seen him for at least a week."
"I don't know why," Ron replied. "He's bound to get another term. The only other person running is Jameson Lewis, and everyone knows he's a tosser."
"That doesn't mean nobody will vote for him, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "He's actually quite popular with a certain crowd."
"You can call them the pureblood purist cretins," Ron shot back, rolling his eyes. "But even with them voting for him, it would only stand for like, what, twenty-five percent of the vote, if that?"
"At least Lockhart didn't run this year," Harry pointed out.
"Merlin, can you imagine what state the country would be in now if he'd actually won?" Ron mused, suddenly looking amused. "A law would have been passed that everyone had to wear periwinkle robes or follow his hair care advice to be allowed out in public."
Hermione chuckled. "It's not like we could have a Minister who still resides in Saint Mungos, is it?"
"If we were in the Muggle world, they wouldn't have let him run. I don't think anything is impossible in the Wizarding World, Hermione. Purebloods forget logic exists when they get their wands on their eleventh birthday."
Ron and Hermione both laughed, and Harry grinned as he finally got his wings exactly how he'd imagined them when he started working on his outfit. He was ready to go. Turning away from the mirror, he looked at his friends.
"What do you think?"
"You look lovely, Harry," Hermione complimented with a smile, while Ron muttered under breath something that sounded suspiciously like "nerd!"
Because Ron was a jerk.
Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek as he passed her, grabbing his keys and wallet as he did so. "Don't wait up for me."
"You know we will anyway," Hermione replied. "Have fun, and don't argue with the trolls again."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "No promises."
…
Opening his eyes, Harry groaned when he realised he was not at home in his bed. Of course he wasn't.
Why did he always get in trouble when he just wanted to have fun?
Looking around, he realised he was laid out on a stone slab—a prettily decorated one, but it was still stone and still uncomfortable—in the middle of a square surrounded by stone pillars.
He pushed himself up gingerly, and couldn't help but think that whatever trouble he was in now, at least he was in a nice place. Around the square was the greenest grass he'd ever seen, flowers blossoming amongst the blades and swaying happily in the breeze.
Above him, the sky was blue, with fluffy white clouds passing over slowly, never blocking the sun. If his gut wasn't telling him this was probably a bit not-good, he'd be happy to lie back and watch the clouds roll by for hours.
He loved trying to find the shapes in them, a game he played with Teddy all the time.
But.
Now was probably not the time to be appreciating the surroundings. He looked down at himself instead, trying to figure out if there was any damage. He couldn't feel any pain, but that didn't always mean much.
His fae outfit—which had been a huge success at the convention, so fuck you Ron—was gone, and he was wearing weird silk pyjamas. The fancy kind he imagined the Malfoys wore that made Harry's skin itch.
He noticed a small table beside the slab he'd woken up on, and on it, a bright red apple.
The reddest he'd ever seen.
Snow White-esque, even. Fuckity.
But no, he hadn't been transported into a Disney movie, that was ridiculous. And yet…
"Uh. Hi?" he greeted, as seven men—dwarves, let's be straight here, they were fucking dwarves and he was definitely in a Disney movie, fuck it all to hell—appeared as though from nowhere and gathered around his slab.
"Why are you awake? You're not supposed to be awake."
"He's not supposed to be a guy either."
"Snow White doesn't have to be a girl!"
"Of course not, but still. He's not exactly… pretty, is he?"
"Hey," Harry protested, glaring at the one who'd said he wasn't pretty. He was plenty pretty, thank you very much.
They all silenced and looked back at him. He tilted his head slightly, trying to figure out why they seemed so familiar, even beyond his love of Disney, and then it clicked.
And he laughed, and he laughed, and he didn't stop laughing until he was hiccuping and wiping tears from his eyes.
They looked like the Weasleys. But little. And he couldn't wait to tell Ron—if he could ever get home, of course.
"Don't suppose you'll tell me where I am?" he asked, when he'd gotten himself under control.
"You're in the forest."
"Helpful," Harry replied, nodding. "What forest?"
The dwarf blinked at him. "The forest."
"Well, I can already tell you lot are going to be about as much use as chocolate firemen, so I guess I'll have to find my own way out of here."
"You… could come to the house?" one of the dwarves suggested, looking hopeful. "None of us can cook so…"
Harry snorted and shook his head. "Isn't one of you supposed to not talk? Dopey? Can I talk to him? It'd probably make more sense."
"You shouldn't leave," said the one who'd said he wasn't pretty. "The Prince will be coming for you."
"I'm not a damsel in distress," Harry protested. "And I'm awake and not unconscious by way of apple, so I don't need a Prince."
He jumped down from the slab and walked to the edge of the square, looking out at the grass surrounding it. Gingerly, he took a step out of the square, and softly put his foot down on the grass.
And everything went black.
…
"Boy! You're getting lazy! Come and sweep the kitchen!"
Harry frowned as he blinked his eyes open, this time finding himself on a pile of hay. He looked down to find himself wearing rags.
Cinderella, then.
Fuck that.
Standing, he left the cellar by way of the stairs and found himself in a familiar kitchen.
Double fuck that.
And why in the hell were there two Dudleys?
Oh. Evil step-Dudders. Grim.
"Where in the shit is my fairy godmother?" he muttered to himself, ignoring his Uncle's thundering to peer outside. Everything looked exactly as he remembered from his youth, and he really wasn't about to replay his baby years as the Dursleys' slave.
"Vernon, look!" Petunia said, entering the kitchen with a letting in her hands. The envelope was clearly expensive, and the paper she pulled from inside was of the same quality.
"A ball! Oh, it will be lovely to wear a formal dress again, it's been so long, Vernon! Say we can go?"
"Anything for you, poppet. Maybe one of our boys can snag that prince, hmm? You know he swings that way."
"Oh, imagine, Vernon! Our son, royalty. Wouldn't it be simply wonderful?"
Harry shuddered. "There is something very, very wrong here," he muttered to himself, escaping the kitchen and then the front door and out onto the street. Not caring for the scandalised looks from the neighbours, Harry made his way away from the Dursleys.
He'd take his chances with another fairytale.
"Harry, my dear—"
He took one look at Mrs Figg, who was floating a foot off the ground and had the oddest blue dress on, and he ran.
It wasn't long until everything went black again.
…
He was at the top of a very tall tower and he had very long hair. Fuckity. Gotta be Rapunzel. How in the hell was he supposed to get down?
"You weren't supposed to be here."
Harry twirled around to find himself face to face with Jameson Lewis. "Uh. Say that again with more detail?"
"This," the man said, waving his hand, "wasn't meant for you."
"That's comforting," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "That mean I can go home, then?"
"Unfortunately not. We didn't realise Shacklebolt was in love, or we'd have rethought the plan. Or… perhaps we wouldn't. Now… Well, now you're both trapped here until he saves you from the fairytale."
"I'm not a damsel in distress, dammit," Harry muttered.
Gallingly, Lewis laughed. "You actually kind of are, Mr Potter. Really, this couldn't have worked out better. Shacklebolt is too busy trying to save you, and you're stuck here so you aren't out there trying to save him and ruining my plans. It's beautiful, really, now that I think about it."
Harry huffed and sat down on the thankfully comfortable bed. "You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. And you think you'll be voted as the new Minister?"
"Morals are for weak men. Name a successful politician with morals, Mr Potter."
"Kingsley," Harry replied promptly.
"He was allowed into office because of the chasm the war left behind. Now that the world is on a more even—"
"He's won two elections since," Harry pointed out. "So clearly he's been doing something right."
"He has the endorsement of the Chosen One," Lewis replied, clearly a little bitter. "But now, with you both out of the way—"
"You said all he had to do was save me."
Lewis grinned slyly. "Correct. But this isn't a fairytale, Mr Potter, despite the setting. I'm the big bad wolf, and—"
"Wrong fairytale, arsehole."
"I think that's my queue to leave, Mr Potter. Just before I go, though," he pulled his wand—and why did he get a wand, when Harry hadn't been able to find his own—and cast a severing charm at Harry's hair, leaving it barely shoulder length. "Just in case you get any ideas."
Harry snorted, paying the man no mind as he faded from view, leaving behind just a small sparkle before there was no sign he'd even been there.
Harry got up and walked over to the window and looked down at the ground. Holy shit but that was a long drop.
Logically, if Harry jumped from the window, it should all go black, right?
But then, he had a feeling that if he went splat on the ground, it might traumatise Kingsley if the man eventually found him. Probably a bit not good.
Still, it was chilly at the top of the tower, and Harry wasn't sure how long he was to be expected to just sit there and wait. He'd never been one for waiting around, he was impatient by nature. Eventually, Harry pulled himself up onto the ledge.
He was seventy-four percent sure it would be fine if he jumped, and that was pretty good odds.
Taking a deep breath, he jumped.
He free fell for a few moments and then, as the ground neared at a rather alarming pace, everything, thankfully, went black.
…
Red, as much as Harry was a Gryffindor, really wasn't his colour. The cloak hanging over his shoulders was pretty, sure—but he'd have much preferred a green one, or even a blue one.
Why were fairy tales so bloody predictable?
Still, he had a better chance of finding Kingsley in this one. Surely he'd be the huntsman.
Harry just had to figure out how to hide from a furry Remus, and all would be well. Besides, he wasn't stupid enough to comment on the size of 'Grandma's' teeth.
He walked through the forest, swinging the basket he'd found in his hand, whistling softly to himself. He knew he was being watched, could feel the eyes burning into him, but he ignored them.
So far, the worlds—or whatever they were—he'd dropped into had been pretty close to the fairy tales he remembered, so he wasn't particularly worried that the wolf would try and bite his face before he got to the cabin he assumed would be at the other end of the trail.
And sure enough, when he rounded a large clump of trees, there was a rustic cabin just offset from the trail, the chimney smoking invitingly.
"Well. Let's go see Grandma Remus," he muttered to himself, looking around the forest. He approached the door and knocked three times, waiting for the door to open.
It didn't.
Instead, he heard the most false "Come in, dear" from inside. Merlin, it was like the wolf wasn't even trying to hide. How dumb was Red Riding Hood anyway that she thought that was her Grandma?
He pushed open the door and chuckled when he saw what was waiting for him. 'Grandma' was sitting in a rocking chair, a brown-and-gold-accented blanket pulled up to her chin.
The snout on her was clearly not human.
And the amber eyes were unlike anything Harry had ever seen on any human that didn't spend the full moon howling at said moon.
"How ya doing, Grandma?" he asked cheerfully, placing the basket on a small table. He leant back against the wall beside the door, a decent distance from 'Grandma'.
"I'm well, dear. How are you?"
"I'm good, Grandma. Well, I hope you enjoy your cookies, but I should be off," Harry replied. "Got to get home before it's dark, you never know what could be hanging around the forest."
"Won't you come and give Grandma a hug first?"
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Not actually a big fan of touching, to be honest. Not to mention I've been sick lately and you're old. Wouldn't want you to get sick!"
"Little Red, come here and hug me."
"Ehhhh. I don't fancy it, Grandma. Maybe next time."
The wolf, clearly irritated that Harry wouldn't follow the script, threw off the blanket and advanced on him, all pretence forgotten. It was actually quite the sight, the wolf still wearing a grey, curly wig and all.
As the wolf opened its mouth, the door burst open and Kingsley burst in with an axe, slicing it through the air in one swift stroke and disconnecting the head of the wolf from its body.
Harry looked down at it. "Savage."
Kingsley blinked at him.
"Oh, hi, Kingsley," Harry added as an afterthought. "How are you?"
"Oh, you know, a bit fed up with the costume changes," Kingsley replied flatly, making Harry giggle. "What are you doing here?"
"Being your damsel in distress, apparently," Harry replied. "But the dwarves were unhelpful, and there was no way I was sticking around for Dursleys to make me do chores."
"And the third one?" Kingsley asked.
"Rapunzel," Harry supplied helpfully. "But Lewis sliced off my hair, so I took a header through the window of the tower to force us into another fairytale."
"Lewis did this?"
Harry nodded. "Uh huh. He seems to believe with you not there to campaign, the Wizarding World will lose its collective—admittedly limited—common sense and vote him into office."
"Huh. Different. You've got to admire his imagination, I suppose."
"Oh yeah, using fairytales is totally original," Harry replied dryly. "Completely inspired."
"Harry—"
"I'm nobody's damsel, Kingsley," Harry said, shaking his head. "He made me feel useless."
"You've never been useless a day in your life," Kingsley replied softly. "And I don't know where I'd be without you. You know that, right?"
Harry sighed but nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"Okay, good. So, any idea how we're supposed to get out of here?"
"True love's kiss seems the obvious," Harry pointed out, sudden butterflies in his stomach making him feel a little nauseous.
Kingsley quirked a brow, but then smiled. "Worth a try, right?"
Harry nodded, and then stopped, because it was really unattractive to be so goddamn eager. Kingsley chuckled, as though he could read Harry's mind, and pulled him close with a gentle hand.
"I never imagined our first kiss to be like this," he admitted, stroking Harry's cheek softly.
"But you did imagine it?" Harry asked, hopeful.
"Every single day."
…
"Where in the whole fuck have you been?"
Harry blinked at Ron. "Uhhhh. Well. See, Lewis—"
"Jameson Lewis?"
"That's the fella," Harry confirmed. "Tried to trap Kingsley in a fairytale thinking that he didn't have romantic feelings for anyone, but then I got sucked in—"
"Were you a princess, Harry?" Ron interrupted with a wide grin.
"I was the prettiest princess," Harry replied. "Do you want this story or not?"
Ron shrugged. "I think I've got as much as I need from it, honestly. You okay?"
"I'm good."
"Good enough. Want some ice cream?"
"Sherbert?"
"Obviously."
"Sold," Harry agreed. "And I'll tell Hermione what actually happened later. Since you've got everything you need from it."
Ron pouted. "But—"
"Oh, and I've got a date tonight, so I have to get ready, anyway."
"A date?"
"Uh huh. With Kingsley."
"Like a kissing date? And not the weird platonic-life-partner thing that you two have been doing for two years?"
Harry grinned. "Yeah, Ron. Like a kissing date."
"About time. Maybe now you'll finally get laid." He handed over a bowl of sherbert ice cream. "And stop being such a nerd."
"You really expect me to stop being a nerd?"
Ron sighed and slumped back on to the sofa beside Harry. "No, but a man can hope, right?"
Written for:
Writing Club:
Showtime: 18. Fairytale!au
They Said What?: 4. "I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love."
Amber's Anime Adventure: 17. "You damn nerd!"
Artist Appreciation: 6. Yellow Brick Road: Fairytale!AU
Buttons: C3. Kingsley Shacklebolt
Summer Camp:
Sports Cabin:
Nothing But Net: 3 Point Basket: 9. Fairytale!AU
Tug of War: 8. Genre: Fluff
Games Cabin:
Cops and Robbers: 12. Black Lake: (genre) romance
They All Fall Down: 6. Fluff
Outdoor Cabin:
Firework Show: Waterfall: 9. HarryKingsley
Beauties and the Pests: Butterfly 5: 5. Orange Tip: (food) sherbert ice cream
Gone Fishin': 1. Periwinkle
Adventure Cabin:
Who's On Top: 9. Harry Potter
Look To The Stars: 10. Serpens: (color) Emerald Green
Knife Throwing: 30. Inspired
Skills Cabin:
Sew Cute: Rhinestones: (word) useless
Cake Dates: HarryKingsley / 15. Fondant Fancy: (Word) Fancy
First Aid: 11. Hydrocortisone ointment packets: (word) itch
Arts Cabin:
Cabin Decorating: 7. Rabastan's Combat Boots - (word) Savage
A Little Sparkle: Mascara: 3. HarryKingsley
Summer Seasonal:
Days of the Year: 23rd June: National Pink Day: Write about a hopeless romantic.
Anti-Boredom: 12. Watch the clouds roll by
Pirate Month: 1. Rustic
Indoor Plant Week: 35. Winter Cherry: Chilly
International Body Piercing Day: 14. Stretched Lobe: Trouble
Creative Ice Cream: 22. Vanilla (Harry Potter) and 39. Eggnog (Kingsley Shacklebolt
Beer Day: 2. Lagunitas: Cheerful
Book Lovers Day: 47. Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrites: "You're not my favourite person today." / "I'm not your favourite person any day."
Colours: 8. Gold
Flowers: 10. Cosmos: (dialogue) "There is something very, very wrong here."
Gryffindor Character: 29. Harry Potter
Gryffindor Challenge: Script: 6. (dialogue) "You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair."
Other:
Pop Figures: Disney: 103. 08. Snow White: (AU) Fairytale
365: 237. Fairytale!AU
