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Royalty by Paltischa
Chapter 2 : Princess in Royal Distress
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 11

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A/N: Hey Guys! Thank you to everyone who reviewed/liked the last chapter! It made my heart swell up and almost, quite literally, jump out of my chest. Out of joy. I hope you guys like this one. It is a bit filler-ish, but I promise it gets better.

Oh and before I forget,

Everything related to the Harry Potter universe belongs to our mother, JK Rowling. Bow down before her because that's just how it is.



"Princess! You must wake up at once!"

Now that was odd. I was being woken up. I'm not supposed to be woken up. The only time anybody, including my parents, is allowed to wake me up is if duty calls. I wouldn't want to be late for work as a princess. I'll have you know, that I'm by far the most beloved princess of England. Well, after Grandma Diana.

So why on earth was I being woken up?

I know for a fact that I had no state affairs to deal with this morning. No interviews to give. No functions to attend. If I did have to go to any of these, my internal body clock would have woken me up automatically and would have had me picking out the right outfit even after carefully planning it the night before.

"Princess! Your tutor will be here any second to collect you!"

I sprang up instantly.

Oh bugger.



"Father, you absolutely must reconsider your decision!"

I'm an ace negotiator. Just ask my ladies in waiting. They always come around to doing what I tell them to do.
Once, when I was on a state trip to Dubai, I had been taken shopping to a local market. A carpet shop had caught my eye and as per usual, I liked quite a few things. The owner demanded a price of 1000000 dirhams. I negotiated with him to accept 1560000 dirhams. Oh yeah. I'm good.

My father put down his copy of the Al Jazeera. I guess this wasn't how my farewell breakfast was supposed to go.

"Don't be ridiculous, Elizabeth. I've already promised Professor Weasley. She will be here any moment now," he said, picking up the Times of India. He loved reading muggle newspapers from all over the world. It was a habit he caught in his childhood.
The only habit I've got from childhood is buying matching purses with all my shoes. It's a bit annoying but what can I do? It is a habit.

"But you can't honestly expect me to live with strangers! I'll have to pick up after myself! Can't you see how horrible it sounds? I cannot believe you would do this to me-"

Aah. Revelation has come.

Father looked at me after I stopped speaking so abruptly. I couldn't help but smirking at his apprehensive facial expression.

"What?" He asked me.

"You mean, I beg your pardon."

They become the reigning monarchs and completely forget their manners. They are so lucky to have me.

He rolled his eyes (good heavens) and repeated, "I beg your pardon, liz."

"I've figured it out."

He looked a bit confused. But I'm sure he was acting. Always a jester, my father.

"Figured what out?" He asked.

Oh yeah. He is definitely feigning innocence.

"Figured out your prank."

He looked genuinely confused. He must be a better actor than I thought.

"I know you're not actually sending me," I said, pouring icy water all over his grand scheme to fool me, "I know you're pulling my leg."

He gave me a smile. "Liz, nobody is joking. You're actually leaving with Hermione today."

"Haha, aren't you funny? No, seriously, dad. You can give up the act. I KNOW. Good try though. You almost had me." I was laughing now.

It was funny. An extremely funny prank.

I got up (he is my dad. I don't need to wait for him to get up first. It is the 21st century after all. We have to, what do they say? Yeah,'get with it'.) And began to leave the room.

"Elizabeth it isn't a pra-"

"Oh you are so funny, father! You should show mother this side of you more often. Maybe she'll stop pestering you about those yoga lessons."

"But lizzie-"

"Dad, I figured it out! You can give up the act! Really, stop it you funny man, you."
I had left the dining hall by now, skipping down the hallway to the giant sitting room. I was happy! I wasn't going to spend my summer in wizard hell-hole after all!
I felt like singing. In fact, why WASN'T I singing?

"I-I love you like a love song, baby! I-I love you like a love song, baby! And I keep hitting repepepepepepeat!"


"I-I love you like a love song BABAY! And I keep hittin repepepepepeat! Nanana..."

"Princess Lizzie!"

Aah. Somebody was bothering me. How many times have I told the staff not to interrupt me when I'm trying to hit a particularly hard note in one of the most challenging songs of ALL time?

"Who calls for me thus? Show thyself!"

Yes, I know that was a bit overdramatic. But I was happy and the situation really called for it.


I turned about to see Mrs. Wimbley running towards me, her stout frame wobbling.
"Yes, Mrs. Wimbley? Is it the paparazzi again? Just tell them I'll come out on the balcony on my usual time, thank you."

I turned away; ready to resume my performance of one of the most brilliant songs of all times.

"It isn’t the Paparazzo, Princess. It’s your tutor. She is here to collect you," said Mrs. Wimbley, wringing her hands nervously.

Wow. The plan was way more elaborate than I had thought. They even got portly little Mrs. Wimbley in on it.

"Oh Haha, Mrs. Wimbley. They got you in on it too!" I said, laughing out loud.

"I beg your pardon, Princess, but Professor Weasley told me to tell you to hasten your departure. It is her in-laws’ big party tonight and she wants to bring you on time."
Ice spread through my veins.

It was one of those moments in life where you want nothing more but to yell a loud, "NO!!!!" out loud, shaking your fist up at the sky; verbalizing your true inner discomfort with a situation. But you can't for you have to preserve your dignity and self respect.

"Princess?" Mrs. Wimbley peered at me, through her wire rimmed glasses, probably wondering if I had lost my sanity.

She should know better. Princesses don’t lose their sanity. They just become momentarily speechless when the mood of their lives switches from an upbeat Selena Gomez song to a relatively solemn Taylor Swift number.

"I will be right along in a minute. Tell Professor to wait for me in the far, far sitting room in the East Wing," I said, finally.

Time for Plan B.



"Here we are, Princess. The Burrow!"

Clearly Plan B had failed. Miserably.

Apparently sneaking out of a palace isn’t very easy. I really shouldn’t have called for Fathers’ cars. I knew his drivers were snitches.

"Great. It is indeed very lovely." NOT. It was the most absurd looking building in the whole of my father’s kingdom.

Professor Weasley looked at me. Her bushy hair was tamed for once and she was wearing a fancy looking robe. She took her glasses off and gave me a weak smile.
"Elizabeth. You are in the wizarding world now. You can say what you want to say."
I hate it when Professor Weasley sees through me. But I can't help but smile back at her.

"Okay, Professor Weasley."

"Call me Hermione," She said, grinning at me.

"You got it, Professor Weasley."

Hermione laughed. She beckoned me towards the house (if it could be called that at all. The building was a safety hazard if I ever knew one.)

I was glad my stylist had a head on her shoulders. She'd dressed me up in clothes suitable for Ottery St. Catchpole (Or the country, as she was told). I had on a simple Chanel suit, peach in colour along with patent leather Stella McCartney peep toes. And ofcourse, I had my Louis Vuitton tote with me.

My Keepers were wearing robes. I'd made a mental note to not comment Jacob's dragon hide shoes (DRAGONS SHOULD NOT BE KILLED FOR SHOES DESPITE THE FACT THAT SHOES ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS WE WEAR! IT IS WRONG!).

Professor Weasley, er, Hermione led me to the back door and we entered a minuscule room, aproximately the size of half my shoe cupboard. There were flying pots and pans, all magically preparing food on their on.

It was overwhelming.

I had never seen magic on exhibition like this before. It was odd and slightly unsettling but I didn't feel uncomfortable. I felt at ease. How very odd.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

A tall man with striking red hair walked in. He immedietly went up to Prof- Hermione and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Ron, meet Elizabeth," Hermione motioned towards me. I ignored how she forgot the HRH. I guess I'll have to get used to the fact that I wasn't in my territory anymore. I was in Hell.

"Hi there, I'm Ron," He said, holding out his hand for me.

I looked at it and then looked back up at him. Jacob coughed.

I shook it.

After what seemed like eternity, he let my hand go.

I let go of the breath I'd subconsciously been holding.

"Princess Elizabeth," I said, giving him my trademark 'I'm a Royal and You Are My Subject Hence I'm Smiling' smile.

He blushed a cherry red.

I always find blushing men quite disgusting.

"Princess, A word?" Hermione said. She looked serious. Like, more serious than usual.

"Sure," I said, genuinely smiling at her.

She beckoned me to a corner of the dirty kitchen which was relatively less busy (i.e there were no flying pots to hit us in the head while we conversed).

"I know you don't want to be here, Elizabeth - and yes, I will be calling you Elizabeth from now on and so will everyone else. You don't realise what you have been missing! I've seen you grow up and you have missed SO much in your life," She grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me lightly. I looked around frantically for Jacob and Albert only to find them chit chatting with Ron. Great going, guys. Just keep on chatting. Who cares if the only royal in the room is getting mauled by her magic teacher? Not me, that's for sure.

"Elizabeth? Are you listening to me?" She shook me again.

Hey, I'm not a toy. Handle me with care, Hermy.

Wow. Two hours in this place and just look at how I'm talking.

"Sure," I shrugged out of her grasp.

"Look, All I want from you is to be yourself this summer. Not Princess Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth. If you don't like it -something I highly doubt - you can go back to being Princess Elizabeth in the fall. Its a No Lose situation."

I considered her for a second. I actually processed what she had said. I waited another second for dramatic effect. And then -

"I really don't understand you, Hermione."

She sighed and gave me a tiny smile.

"Just be yourself, love."

Like I'm ever anybody else! WHAT DOES SHE MEAN?

"Whatever you say, Professor Weasley."

I smiled at her.

She may be confusing as hell but I loved her tons.



"Elizabeth, are you ready?" Hermione said as she walked into my room. Or should I say the broom closet she had led me to about two hours ago.

"Just about done," I said, placing the stray strands of my hair back into their bun , "I just need to put on my tiara."

Hermione pursed her lips.

"You may not want to do that," she said to me, drawing each word out carefully.

However, her words couldn't be drawn out carefully enough.

By asking me to not wear my tiara, Hermione had asked for the royal equivalent of a kidney. No no no no. No way am I not wearing my tiara.
"No. Nuh uh. My tiara is the insignia of my status. Without it, I'm nothing! I'm COMMON. I'm the Princess! I can not appear COMMON! This place is horrible!" I yelled out at her.

"Calm down, Elizabeth," Hermione said calmly. "Nobody knows you here. They don't care about muggle royalty. They dont KNOW about muggle royalty. Besides, I told you. For the next three months you are not a Princess. You are just Elizabeth and you have to act like it."

"You don't get it! Elizabeth is a princess! There is no JUST ELIZABETH! There is PRINCESS ELIZABETH and then there is NOBODY!" I hate yelling. Especially at Professor Weasley.

But I can't help it when my life seems to be crescendo-ing into my worst nightmare.

"Just do as I say. You won't regret it, I promise. Trust me." She held out a hand for my tiara, giving me an earnest look.

I sighed. Professor Weasley is my, as Fred's friends would put it, homie. I trusted her more than anyone.

I handed over my three hundred diamonds encrusted tiara. It was like handing over a piece of my soul.

"Good. Now get ready. Everybody is dying to meet you," she said as she made her way to the door.

"Wait, Hermione!" I called out to her.

She turned around, "Yes?"

"Why are there so many TVs in the room? And what channels are these?" I pointed to the flat television structures that were covering the walls of the room.

Hermione began laughing. How odd. It wasn't a very funny question. I genuinely wanted to know.

"Elizabeth, those aren't TVs. They are paintings!" She said, composing herself.

"But...but..They are moving! And talking!"

Hermione walked up to me and ruffled my hair (Gah! My precious blonde locks!).

"Welcome to the magical world, sweetie," She smiled at me one last time before walking out.




And and and, Love You Like a Love Song belongs to Selena Gomez. Taylor Swift belongs to Taylor Swift. Peace out.

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