Pride, Prejudice and Potions
A crossover fanfiction
Story Disclaimer: This story is based off characters, situations and locations owned and created by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, Raincoast Books, Warner Brothers or any other company that own copyright to the Harry Potter series. The story may include characters and locations owned/created by other parties including but not limited to Joss Whedon, George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Fox, Paramount, Random House, Penguin Putnam, Inc., Ballantine Books, and a variety of other people. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own the brilliant words of Miss Jane Austen, several of which you may see here in variations.
Reader Instructions
Take these recognizable characters and banish any facts you previously knew about their familial ties, financial status, history, animosities, friendships, and, in some very unfortunate circumstances, gender. Instead, concentrate on only their personalities and appearances- for these characters have been cast in a story they have never before played a part in.
Chapter One
It is a generally acknowledged truth that life for a wizard residing in the world of non-magical folk is fraught with difficulties and requires a significant amount of deception. Should said wizard also be single and in possession of a large fortune, he would be wise to safeguard his bachelorhood. For the seemingly pastoral innocence of a neighbourhood may conceal witches with schemes to his wealth and power or, decidedly more dangerous, mothers of marriageable daughters lying in wait for him.
Hertfordshire, England, 1811
Mrs. Bennet did not restrain her excitement as she entered the assembly rooms for the ball she had earlier proclaimed would bring some form of good fortune for one of her two daughters. Hermione and her elder sister Harriet were familiar enough with their mother's effusions and allowed her free reign of noisy speculations with nary a word.
"Besides," observed Hermione, "we can hardly censure her, as we have just as much interest in the newest addition to our little society."
The new neighbour, a Mr. Cedric Bingley, was a single gentleman who had recently leased Netherfield Park, a grand estate not far from the Bennet's own smaller, in the country village of Longbourn. It was rumoured he had come up from London with a large party of friends, and had promised to attend this evening's public dance.
That his party might also include other rich men who would be as enchanted with her daughters as Mr. Bingley, was never doubted by a most determined Mrs. Bennet.
"Sir Arthur Lucas saw him in a new carriage with four perfectly matched Norfolk Trotters," she said dreamily. "He must have very fine taste and a great fortune to afford such luxury. You girls must be introduced tonight. I shall have Sir Arthur's promise to do it."
Her plotting continued, "I see Miss Lucas behind you, Harriet, you and Harriet must stand by her as she is ever so plain and will make you both look all the lovelier to any gentleman."
"Mama! Veronica Lucas is my closest friend!" Hermione protested.
Her mother ignored her. "Oh, do go over! The musicians look as if they will be starting very soon and you must find dancing partners, for your cheeks want colour."
"Yes, Mama," Harriet obediently replied, as she pulled her sister away. Their mother was very satisfied when a short time later both daughters, and even the unfortunately freckled Miss Lucas, opened the ball with the first of many acceptable partners.
The Misses Bennets and Miss Lucas had been refreshing themselves by an open window after a particularly lively reel when the Bingley party entered later, drawing the attention of most within.
"Which is he?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"The handsome one with the brown locks and ruddy cheeks is Mr. Bingley," answered Miss Lucas, "and the two ladies are his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."
"Goodness, what opposites in looks! I do not think I have ever seen such a shade of flaxen before. Surely they must be his half-sisters?"
"I believe my father inquired after that as well. It seems that Mr. Bingley favours his late father, whilst his siblings favour their mother's side of the family."
"They are very elegant," Harriet ventured nervously. "I think I should feel a bit overwhelmed at meeting such fine ladies."
Despite their silks and jewels, Hermione decided their looks could be vastly improved upon had they not appeared to believe themselves so much above their company. Their brother, however, was smartly dressed, well formed, clearly pleased with all he saw and smiled broadly. She liked him immediately.
"And the other two men?"
"The stout one is Mr. Hurst, husband of the eldest sister. The taller is a Mr. Severus Darcy, and Mr. Bingley's dearest friend."
A married man held little interest to a single lady, therefore Hermione regarded the other. Mr. Darcy looked the gentleman- black velvet from head to foot but for his stark white shirt and silver silk cravat. He favoured trousers rather than breeches which served to emphasize his height over the entire room. Sooty tresses draped down the sides of his face to his shoulders, framing his high forehead and heavy brow. Most intriguingly, he was completely unreadable.
Hermione wished she could take a curious nibble at the thoughts of this man who schooled his expressions so well. Unfortunately, before she could banish such foolish notions, her mind traversed the space between them and skimmed the edges of his intellect in a tiny effleurage.
She saw the head of a powerful horse striving below firm dark gloves, and recognized the pastures around Netherfield flying by. Senses filled her; a brisk wind whipped over her cheeks and through her hair, the musty dryness of freshly cut hay fields and decaying leaves, then emotions… control…satisfaction… and… relief? It was the work of but a moment.
Hermione fled him, horrified at her unwitting invasion. "You cannot swoon now," she told herself, struggling to gasp for a breath, " he will know."
She dared a peek and felt ill as she witnessed Mr. Darcy's entire countenance change from disinterest, to vigilance. He slowly perused the room, hunting for his trespasser, while she stood frozen, unable to obey her fear's command to look away despite the gaze creeping closer to her corner.
Sharp eyes that glinted like winter's icy night met hers for a quicksilver moment before she abruptly turned her back to him and retorted to her friend,
"Tall he may be, but what a countenance! If rumours of vampyres in the neighbourhood have not completely panicked the countryside by morning, I shall eat my hat." She huffed the last words out, just beginning to regulate the wild beating of her heart after her hairbreadth escape.
Miss Lucas stifled an unladylike laugh. " 'Mione! Mr. Darcy may well resemble Nosferatu, however he is a gentleman and his fortune is twice Mr. Bingley's."
"And therefore is entitled to double the deference? Come now, Ronnie, you know me better. While I will not reprove the man for his sour looks, he must earn my respect, or admiration, for I shall not grant it based upon the crowns in his pocket."
"Girls!" Her mother interrupted their laughter. "Have you seen the two gentlemen? Do you not think Mr. Bingley is very good looking? Yet how can he compare to Mr. Darcy? So tall! So excessively handsome and," she pitched her voice lower, "they say he has ten thousand a year."
Hermione was about to caution her mother when Sir Arthur Lucas approached with the very gentlemen trailing behind. She refused to lift her bowed head, and was grateful the darker of the two declined an introduction and immediately left them.
Mr. Bingley, easy in new company and lively, was quick with his introduction, as well as his enthusiastic entreaty of Harriet's hand for the next set of dances. Hermione felt no slight. Her sister's vibrant green eyes and fair complexion contrasted so perfectly with her raven hair, it was a rare man who was not instantly entranced by her unique beauty.
Mr. Darcy was all that was generous and indiscriminate in his refusals to be introduced to any lady. He spent his time stalking about the assembly room, glaring with disdain at everything and everybody. The night had not half passed before his never-desired title as most eligible catch was swiftly transferred, by undisclosed proxy, to the amiable Mr. Bingley.
"What a pity his friend should prove so disagreeable!" her mother later lamented as she watched Harriet dance a second set with Mr. Bingley. "So much more handsome and richer, 'tis a pity your sister could not tempt him."
Hermione caught her shock in her throat. "Mama, whatever can you mean?"
Mrs. Bennet sighed. "I am not so old as some people might think, missy! A woman would have to be dead and buried not to appreciate such a fine face and figure as Mr. Darcy's!" She sighed again. "Although I must admit, I have always been partial to men with his features; those chocolate curls and warm brown eyes! He has such a masculine cleft in his chin, and when he smiles, goodness, Hermione! Can even you be unaffected by those dimples?"
She blinked several times, ogling her mother as if she had grown three heads and a tail. "You saw Mr. Darcy smile?" she uttered in complete seriousness.
While Mrs. Bennet continued to enumerate Mr. Darcy's attributes, Hermione attempted to disabuse herself of the evidence of what she saw, and what her mother was espousing. She felt herself in serious danger of bursting out in uncontrollable laughter when a sudden suspicion overcame her. She gently grasped the garnet cross that lay below her throat and whispered "Aperio".
A fog in her eyes created the vision that her mother and all other non-magical people in the room were seeing: Mr. Darcy was enveloped in a clever spell. His height and figure were little altered, for he was genuinely a tall, lean man, yet his other features were replaced by all her mother had described.
"What abominable pride and deceitfulness!"
She admitted his true looks were anything but welcoming, but to trick her friends and neighbours so blatantly, was beyond the pale.
"And that nose! I do not know if ten thousand a year could buy you a bride who would overlook such misfortune as that nose, Mr. Darcy!"
However, such deserved chastisements were obscured by the realisation she must now warn Harriet and the Lucases that a clever wizard of dubious intent prowled their ball.
Emotions so raw and engrossing rendered her unprepared when suddenly the object of her silent tirade, as if somehow hearing her outrageous indignation, was coldly staring at her from across the long room. She felt the pin-prickles of the interloper tentatively stroking the edges of i her /i consciousness.
Years of lessons with her father instantly engaged and images of the dancers, her sister's hair and the lace on Mrs. Hurst's gown filled her head.
Still he persisted.
She continued to try to persuade him of her innocent nature; the memory of sitting upon a grassy bank along the bubbling stream near Netherfield House coming forth. The sun shone brightly and a sublime breeze flickered through the tendrils of the chestnut curls she had let down her back. Her memory self set to work on removing her shoes, reached under her skirts to unroll her stockings, then dipped her bare feet joyfully into the cooling summer water.
Hermione was mortified he was seeing her revealed knees to toes, and quickly brought up a more modest image of the stillroom in her father's house, careful to avoid the corners where ingredients of a 'less than lavender water nature' might be visible, until she felt his intrusion slowly slink away.
Her fan snapped open upon the broken connection and she was forced once again to bring herself under regulation.
"I will not allow such a false, offensive man to know me! You may be quite the mind reader sir, but you have met your match in me." Her face broke into a mischievous smile after some moments as she plotted her battle to bring the haughty and deceitful Mr. Darcy to his knees. She once again reached for the garnet cross that lay across her bosom chanting, "Femina Mediocris,". The air around her quiet corner crackled faintly.
Lady Molly Lucas stood nearby and could not help, as she was always busying herself with the goings on of those around her, but comment on Hermione's sudden change in appearance. "My dear, is there some logic to your purposely hiding your true lovely image from the wizards among us? I hardly think you will recommend yourself to anyone, looking as you do now."
"Why, Lady Lucas, I thought it was a costume ball, and I would disguise myself as an old spinster governess! Moreover, I can assure you there is no one here tonight to whom I would wish to excite with my supposed comeliness. Those who know me already will merely laugh at my joke, and any new acquaintance will be dissuaded from pursuing me by my… shall we say extreme lack of beauty? In all, a rather perfect evening!"
" 'Mione, take care. You know that to reveal yourself to strangers is not wise. We all must do our best to fit in with those who are not of our world, and wait to see if the newcomers are worthy of knowing what we are. I will speak with my family not to draw attention to you, but please do not take any unnecessary risks for any of us. Not all wizards are good, my dear."
She clasped Lady Lucas' hand firmly, and told her of the recent revelation of Mr. Darcy's spell. The Bingley party's potential of also being magical was the next logical suspicion and they both agreed to spread the word of caution to the wizarding families in attendance.
Lady Lucas sought out her congenial husband who was endeavouring to discover the unending secrets of a new muggle fascination called crop rotation from a local farmer. The dance had ended, prompting Mrs. Bennet to entreat Harriet to a secluded spot where they could talk of all that occurred, and allowed Hermione to give her sister the warning.
Much later, Hermione was obliged to sit out for lack of a dancing partner and could not help the next sounds which reached her ears.
"Your imitation of Death in the shadows needs work, Darcy. You look more like a member of the House of Lords with bad digestion. Come and dance. At least you can do that tolerably well without hope of embarrassing me."
"If you mean to be amusing, Bingley, you really must try harder," a rich, deep voice returned.
"I mean to make you be reasonable. Come and dance."
"I beg you not to importune me to such torture. Your sisters are already engaged, i you /i have monopolized the only fair lady and standing up with any other woman in the room would be punitive in the extreme. Go back to your pretty partner, I am not worth your pestering."
"She is my dark angel! I have never met a woman so bewitching!"
"Careful of your words, my friend."
Mr. Bingley chose to ignore the bait. "One of her sisters is just over there. Allow me to introduce you. I daresay she is very agreeable and would make an excellent partner."
Mr. Darcy turned to look briefly in Hermione's direction before replying to his friend, "Really Bingley, if you force me into a dance of obliviation with such a creature I shall never forgive you."
"Obliviation? Do you not mean obligation?"
"No, obliviation. For if you force me to dance with such a plain, empty-headed ninny, I shall demand you obliviate me afterwards. I have seen into her head; ribbons, lace and paddling in the local streams! A woman has little more than her fleeting beauty, so if you must offer, please do me the small favour of finding a girl who would not be a punishment to look upon, or at the very least, knows how to bathe properly. Now return to your celestial Harriet Bennet and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting precious dancing time with me."
"I cannot dance with her again, I have already asked twice. To do more would break with propriety."
"Good heavens!" His voice lowered to a dangerous hum; thick and wicked in its intent, "Are you not a wizard? Dance all night with her, if you like. We can certainly make this wretched group of muggles fail to remember it later. Now go and enjoy your evening and seek me out before we leave. I shall tell your relations of your plans."
"I do not wish to do anything untoward to Miss Bennet. I will not dance with her again. Please do not … please try to be civil, Darcy," he begged meekly. The gentleman simply raised a calculating brow, causing Bingley to sigh in exasperation, "Perhaps I should simply ask you not to hex anyone?"
"I believe that can be arranged."
Hermione did not hesitate to retell the account of Mr. Darcy's slight with great enthusiasm for the rest of the evening. Her friend's laughter, more intense due to the self-inflicted 'Plain Jane' spell she had cast upon herself, was heard throughout the hall.
However delighted she might have been in the reception of her tale, i retribution /i for the insult to her and indeed, all womankind, was not far from Hermione's mind. She observed, with no small satisfaction and pride, how a certain wizard's appearance slowly began a most unusual and disturbing transformation, drawing the attention of those not magically gifted who had not previously known the pleasure of his true countenance.
"Does Mr. Darcy's hair appear to have… straightened, Mrs. Bennet?" a neighbour noticed.
Mrs. Bennet agreed the glorious curls were no more. "Perhaps he used hair irons and the heat of this room caused it to be limp?"
The woman agreed it was a possibility. Why it was so much darker now, defied understanding, and therefore was not thought on again.
A lady nearby was overheard saying, "His nose is certainly not as fine as I once thought. In fact I would say it is rather overly-generous, now I look to it."
The final blow to render Mr. Darcy's masquerade inadequate happened as the ball was closing. Bingley was behaving in his typical way; chagrined at the evening's enjoyments ending so soon and Darcy was amusing himself at his friend's expense. But when the tease came, and the previously enchanting smile was instead replaced by a lifeless grimace of crooked teeth and, horrors of horrors, complete lack of dimples, his character was decided: he was the most odious man on earth and they hoped never to see him again.
"Welcome to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy," Hermione said to herself.