Ruth Sadelle Alderson

There's nothing like squeaking in under the wire, and that's what I'm doing this month. I just finished the book, and even though it's already past my bedtime, I'm writing my LJ entry, and then I will have fulfilled my self-imposed assignment for July.

This month's book was On Royalty: A Very Polite Inquiry Into Some Strangely Related Families by Jeremy Paxman. A chapter or two into it, I thought, "If I'm going to read a Royals book for the 900s, I should really return this in exchange for Tina Brown's The Diana Chronicles. But I didn't. Instead, I worked my way, very slowly, through On Royalty. It's not that it's a bad or uninteresting book, it's just a little slow.

Difficulties:

• I had the impression that it would be about a larger array of royals, when it was mostly about the British.
  
• The book assumes a much larger knowledge of British history than I have.
  
• There are Britishisms I didn't understand. There's so much crammed into the book that it mostly doesn't matter if I didn't get the exact meaning of every Britishism.

Things I enjoyed:

• It has some bits that are quite funny.

  For most of the time the British royal family is not now, nor has it been for generations, spectacular. It is hard even to describe it as much fun. It reflects the people of Britain.

• It has some fascinating asides about varying figures in Royal history. Did you know, for example, that the man who almost became the king of Albania instead died of blood poisoning in 1923 because he "had taken the advice of his former tutor at Oxford who told him that his blindness could be cured by having his teeth removed"?
  
• It led me to some interesting history on Wikipedia. I read all about Marie Antoinette.

Perhaps the funniest thing about the book is that he keeps referring to democracy/republicanism as more sensible than monarchy, and yet the British just aren't ready to give it up: "Republicanism, for all its commonsensicalness, remains a hobby like campaigning for phonetic spelling." In his acknowledgements, he tells us that, "Bill Purdue, Reader in British History at the Open University began his exhaustive commentary with the words, 'I enjoyed reading this manuscript, even though I am largely in disagreement with the author's sentiments and thesis.'" (Oddly, I found the British-style single quotes less irritating in this than I do in fiction. [I refuse to read fiction with single quotes for dialogue.])

1. tesla321 wrote some royalfic!

2. At tesla321's encouraging, I've resurrected our poor royalfic list as an LJ community: royalfic. Membership is moderated, but if you're reading this, chances are fairly good I'll approve your membership.

Part 2

"So this is where you go to school." A tall, blond boy in Muggle clothing swung away from the wall and fell into step with Potter.

Draco watched Potter stop in his tracks and listened in on the conversations around him.

"What are you doing here?" Potter asked.

"Cor. It's Wills," someone breathed.

"Who?" a second voice asked.

"I came to see the school," the boy--Wills, apparently--said, waving his hand at the hallway. "This will be part of my country."

"Prince William," the first voice said, and it clicked. Prince William. And someone had told Potter too much and that the people think of him as Merlin.

"Have you considered my offer?" William asked Potter.

That must mean His Royal Highness thought he was going to be Arthur. Well, they'd just see about that.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Draco said, smoothly moving to Harry's side. "Draco Malfoy."

"William," the Prince answered. His eyes coolly assessed Draco. "My advisors didn't mention you."

Draco gave William his best superior smile. "And Harry didn't mention you," he lied glibly. He took Harry's arm. "We'll be late for class." He swept them away from William and down the hall.

"The heir to the throne," he said to Harry when they were out of earshot. "He wants to be Arthur, and he wants you to help him."

"Yes," Harry said, sounding strangled, and then he bolted and disappeared into one of the washrooms.

Draco bemusedly followed him in and heard the sound of retching coming from one of the stalls. He ran water over a towel and had it ready when Harry came out.

Harry silently accepted it and leaned heavily on the sink while he wiped his face.

"What was his offer?"

Harry paled even farther. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he offer to share his power?"

Harry laughed, a sound like broken glass. He held up one hand and a flame danced in his palm. He closed his fist around it. When he opened his hand again, the flame was gone as if it had never been. "I don't need his power."

"Oh, no," Draco sneered. "Not the famous Harry Potter."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Potter said, or tried to say, rather, as he dissolved into coughing on the last word.

Draco's sneer became a scowl. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't--" Harry took a step back and gripped the edge of the sink. "I don't--"

"Potter, you're white as a ghost." Draco stepped forward and took Harry's arm.

"I don't feel very good," Harry said.

"That's obvious," Draco muttered. "Let's get you to Pomfrey." The halls were empty and they managed to get to the Hospital Wing without anyone seeing them. Harry clung to Draco's arm so tightly that Pomfrey insisted on curing his bruises.

"Tsk," she said when they first came in. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't feel well," Harry told her.

"He threw up earlier," Draco reported.

"We'll have you fixed right up in just a moment." Pomfrey looked sternly at Harry. "You were in the rain just last week, weren't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "No wonder you're ill." She bustled around and came up with a potion and a bar of chocolate for Harry, and a sip of another potion and a small square of chocolate for Draco's bruises.

"Now, Potter, you be sure to rest this afternoon. No Quidditch and none of that mischief-making today! You'll only make yourself sick again." Madam Pomfrey waved at them. "Go on, get out of my Hospital Wing. And I don't want to see you back here anytime soon," she admonished sternly.

"Come on," Draco said once they were in the hallway, and he steered Harry toward a staircase.

"We have class," Harry protested.

"You heard Pomfrey. You're supposed to rest." Draco directed Harry up the stairs.

"I don't think this is what she meant." Despite his words, Harry followed Draco's lead to the Pink Lady guarding Gryffindor.

"Well?" Draco demanded when they were in the common room.

"Well what?"

"Take me up the stairs to your dorm," Draco said patiently.

Harry led the way up another set of stairs and into his dormitory. Draco surveyed the room.

"Do you have any chocolate?"

"I think so." Harry rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a chocolate bar. "Yes, yes, I do."

Draco took it from him and broke off a small piece for himself before giving the remainder of the bar back to Harry. "Eat that."

Harry bit into the chocolate and sat down on his bed where he watched Draco prowl around the room.

"Don't you have anything to read in this place?"

Harry gestured at the assortment of items on his nightstand. "There might be a book in there."

Draco, upon rifling through Harry's things, came up with only an old copy of the Daily Prophet and Harry's copy of The Standard Book of Spells.

"I've been looking for that," Harry said, plucking the latter out of Draco's hands.

Draco pushed at Harry's shoulders. "Lie down, Potter. You're supposed to be resting."

"When did you turn into my nanny?" Harry muttered, but he lay back on the bed.

Draco idly flipped through the old copy of the Daily Prophet, but the news was horribly out of date and he'd already read most of the features. He pulled his feet up under himself and looked down at Harry.

"If you don't need his power," he asked, "what was his offer?"

"He wants me to help him become the next Arthur."

"Yes," Draco said patiently, "I understand that. What did he offer you in return?"

Harry shrugged as best he could while lying down. "He said I could help him become Arthur. He said," Harry said with half a chuckle, "that I had 'fetching green eyes.'"

"That arrogant prat," Draco said, and was completely mystified when Harry started to laugh.

"Oh, Malfoy," Harry said when he stopped, "thank you. I feel much better now." He broke the remainder of his chocolate bar in half and gave one of the pieces to Draco.

"What's he doing?" Draco asked, tipping his chin out toward Harry.

Hermione wrapped her cloak tighter around her, looking out at Harry from under the protection of the castle walls. "I don't know."

Ron scowled at him. "Go away, Malfoy. No one wants you here."

Draco calmly finished eating his Chocolate Frog and started out into the rain.

"Malfoy," Ron shouted after him, "what are you doing?"

Hermione put a restraining hand on his arm. "Let him get wet if he wants."

"What are you doing, Potter?" Draco asked when he reached Harry.

"Do you know what they say about me?" If Harry'd been crying, the rain hid it. "They say I'm Merlin returned to live forward again and usher in a new reign of Arthur." He turned his face back up to the sky and yelled, "I'm not Merlin! I'm not special! I'm just Harry!"

Draco calmly crossed his arms over his chest. "That's right," he said sharply enough to make Harry listen to him. "You aren't special, and you're acting like a right git."

Harry gaped at him.

"Do you really think they'd let anyone but the great Harry Potter get away with this?" Draco asked, arm sweeping out to encompass them, the rain, the grounds.

"But--"

"Either you are or you're not," Draco snapped.

"I'm not special," Harry said, sounding tired, unconvinced.

"That's right," Draco said unsympathetically. He grabbed Harry's arm. "Come on. Get out of the rain."

Harry let himself be pulled to the walls, past Ron and Hermione into the castle proper.

Part 2