Harry Potter and the Princess Bride
by Xianna
Crossover (obviously) between Harry Potter and The Princess Bride. It's been a while since I've read the book, so parts of it will sneak in here but mostly I'm going off the movie. Quite a shame; I loved the book. Anyway, I intend for this thing to go differently from either by the end, since it is Harry Potter after all.
Wheee!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Princess Bride, however much I may wish it.
Once upon a time, a long time ago...
This an old story, a story of love and adventure, of heroes and villains. One that has passed from mere story into legend, so that parts have been lost to time gone. There are many versions of this legend, and none true save for the love that shines through the ages. And so, I will tell you what I know, and you can decide what is legend, and what it true, and what is simply an old lady telling tales in her twilight years...
In the Kingdom of Florin, many ages ago, there lived on a farm a beautiful girl named Hermione. There were many in the local town who called her the most beautiful girl in the world, but of course, they did not know every girl in the world. Nor did they know that, if a record had been kept, Hermione was only the 14th most beautiful. (The most beautiful girl in the world lived in Denmark and so many suitors that her parents were forced to keep her locked in the house.)
Hermione's parents were not farmers, but rather dentists. Since, however, this story takes place long before modern dentistry was made popular, most people in the town were afraid of them and the family had very little business. And while her father did pull the occasional rotten tooth, they decided that the only way to keep out of poverty was to run the farm. It was about the time that they made this decision and bought the farm that they found a strange boy sleeping in their barn.
His name, he said, was Harry and was hired on the spot to help run the farm, since much work had to be done. He had brilliant green eyes and black hair that would never lay as it was told and lightning scar on his forehead that he refused to talk about. In fact, there was very little he was willing to talk about. During the day he did his chores with quiet confidence, then took dinner with the family in the farmhouse before retiring to his room over the barn.
Hermione, however, was not content to leave the boy to his chores. Trapped on the farm and denied her one pleasure of books (her own collection had been sold and the money put to the farm) she turned her attention on Harry. She ordered him about every day, to which he always responded with a quiet, "As you wish."
It was all he ever said to her, and after a time she became convinced that the boy must be stupid and unable to say anything else. Eventually giving him extra orders lost its appeal and she gave up on trying to torment him.
In this time, Hermione grew to become even more lovely, though she did nothing for herself. Her hair frizzed with neglect and her face and hands were often covered in mud (for, as much as she loved to order Harry about, she also insisted on helping where ever she could on the farm) but the beauty of her bright eyes and her smile outshone such things as she grew older, other things began to show as well. She had a perfectly shaped body, with all the curves popular of the day. (Those curves are, by the way, somewhat different than the popular curves of this day. For example, small breasts were considered desirable, though more attention was paid to form.) The last of her baby fat faded away to show a strong but lovely face and even her work on the farm did not mar her delicate and long-fingered hands.
When she turned sixteen the first of her suitors made a serious bid for her hand. He was the son of a local lord and her parents were thrilled when he first made his proposal. But Hermione refused him, saying that she had no intention of being married, and certainly not to someone she didn't love. Her father's love for her was such that he refused the lord in her name immediately, where men in his situation would have gladly ordered their daughters to marry.
But the lord's son was determined, and since the lord doted on his son and gave him his every wish, the lord also was determined to have Hermione join his family. So, in an ostentatious display of wealth, which was really not as grand as the family imagined, the lord, his son, and his wife arrived at the farm one day with a following of servants to try and sway Hermione's father. When they arrived, Harry was outside working hard with a pitchfork and a pile of hay that had fallen out of it's shape. Hermione was with him, going through her regular chores.
Hermione was amused at the families attempted show of power. When her parents were dentists and she still had the luxury of reading, she had learned what real wealth and power looked like, and how good lords acted. When the lord arrived, puffed with his own ideals of himself, she was not impressed. Instead she thought he looked rather ridiculous.
However, it was not the lord or even his son that she stopped her chores to watch. It was his wife. As soon as she came out of her carriage, she gave Harry a look that, Hermione's opinion, could have set the barn behind him on fire. She knew that look, for it was the same one the boys of the village had given her only a million time more powerful.
Hermione shot a glance at Harry to see what made her look so powerfully, but all she saw was the same Harry who had been working on the farm with her over a year, studiously attending to his task and ignoring the lord's wife. Sure, he had his shirt off while he worked, as he often did now that it was high summer. And work and heat had brought out the definition of his strength, made sweat glisten a over his sun-browned body. But he was still just Harry. Sweet, simple, ordinary Harry. There was nothing about him that should have brought such a look from any woman.
But still, even as she told herself that there must have been a mistake, that there was no reason for someone to look at Harry, she know that it was true and became irrationally jealous.
Before she could do anything about the lord's wife, and she did have some inventive ideas about what to do, her father called her into the house. He was at once delighted and overwhelmed and a bit daunted by the sudden appearance of the lord. He called Hermione in to help serve tea to the lord and his family, and so rather than do what she really wanted, she was forced to calmly serve tea to the lord's wife.
The woman was, in Hermione's opinion, completely impossible. Something about her look suggested that her mind was still outside, the she knew how it vexed Hermione, and the she enjoyed vexing her. When she talked, the lord's wife's voice was too high and grating and annoyed Hermione beyond reason.
The lord and his son, however, did not notice what was going on between the two women. They were talking to Hermione's father about her as if she weren't even in the room, or as if her feelings were not worth considering and therefore it did not matter if she was offended by what they said. They explained to her father what a benefit it would be for both families if Hermione would marry the lord's son, that as in-laws they and their farm would be guaranteed a long and safe existence, a protection against bad harvests and dry summers and long winters. That, if only the two families could be combined, wealth would be shared for the lord would not let any member of his family be seen as poor. And that, despite her obvious beauty, Hermione would find no better offer than to marry his son and one day become lady of a wide estate. Hermione's father, while glancing several times at his daughter, quietly but politely refused him after every point, saying simply that their family was comfortable enough and that Hermione had no wish to marry right now.
If Hermione had been listening, she might have been proud of her father, who was at other times a rather drab and week individual. But she wasn't listening to anything the men were saying. She was watching the lord's wife intently as she looked around their simple farmhouse, sneering at the plain plank floor and unadorned walls as if Hermione's beloved home were nothing more than a hovel. Hermione felt an unexpected surge of hate swell up within her, directed at the lady seated across from her. As if she didn't notice anything amiss, the lord's wife smiled thinly at Hermione, her prospective future daughter-in-law, and her smile was little different from a sneer. Hermione's heart beat wildly as she tried to keep her face from flushing in anger, tried to focus her attention at something else so she would not be tempted to spit in the lady's face. To focus on the teacup in the lady's hands. To just watch the teacup and ignore the tantalizing thought of smashing it into the lady's face. Just the teacup. Don't get mad, just focus on the cup.
The fragile cup shattered in the lady's hands and she shrieked in panic. The lord and his son seemed hardly to notice her distress as she leaped up from the table and searched for cuts on her hands, though there was nothing but tea staining them. Only when Hermione's father left the table to make sure the lady was alright did the two men pay her any attention.
The lord simply joked that his wife must not even understand her own strength, to so easily shatter a cup like that, and that they should get back to their negotiations at once. But his wife would have none of that and insisted that they return home immediately. The lord, for all his petty displays of power, was no match for his wife and soon she had her whole family bustled out the door and into their carriage and off the farm.
Hermione was not disappointed to see them go and, without admitting even to herself that was any special reason for it, spent the rest her day doing chores that kept her near Harry.
Later that night, the farm had another lone visitor. Late in the night, after the family and Harry had eaten, a carriage smaller than the one that brought the whole family brought the lord's wife back to the farm. Hermione saw her come only because she had stayed up late trying to reason out why such a grand lady would be interested in Harry. (Sometime during these thoughts, the lord's wife had inexplicably turned from silly to grand.) Sure, he was strong. And his strength showed in his wide shoulders and muscled back (not that Hermione had really paid attention to anything like that) but that was all from his work on the farm and there was no reason to be impressed by someone who could pitch hay all day. And maybe he had a nice face, and maybe his wild hair just begged to have someone run her fingers through it, and maybe his eyes were bright enough and green enough to melt a girl's heart. But that didn't mean anything. He was still just simple Harry. Simple Harry, who could say not more than 'As you wish' to her, who carried no thought in his head. Looks faded, hair fell out, strength turned to fat. Only one's mind really lasted. And one's teeth. Okay, so he had good teeth, too. But it seemed far to silly to think the lady was lusting after Harry's teeth.
But that the same time, Hermione knew there was some fault in her thoughts. Harry could not be that simple. She knew (though she had tried so hard to ignore it) that it was Harry who had saved her farm with his knowledge and his ideas. Though he was humble and unassuming enough to let her father take the credit, everyone knew it was Harry who had saved the farm when her parents still knew nothing but how to pull teeth. And his smile (with his perfect teeth) was not simple and empty, but sweet and special. How, oh how, could she not have noticed before that his smile, his quiet 'as you wish' was for her alone, that Harry had never acted with such caring dedication to either of her parents?
That he loved her?
That she...
But before Hermione could finish that thought the lord's wife appeared in his smaller carriage. Though she did not approach the farmhouse, Hermione saw her arrive since she was staring dreamily (and rather uncharacteristically) out the window. The lady ignored the farmhouse entirely and headed for the barn, where a light from a single candle still burned. Without bothering to hide intentions, the lady swept open the door of the barn and entered.
Immediately, Hermione was on her feet and running for the door. There was no telling what the lady wanted Harry. Or rather, it was rather easy to tell what she wanted from Harry, and the thought of it made Hermione's blood run cold.
Her headlong rush brought her outside faster that she would have thought possible, but she stopped outside the door of the barn. What if she was wrong and Harry didn't love her? What if what the lady wanted, he wanted too? Should she ask him not to? Demand that he have nothing to with the lady and save himself only for her and her useless, teasing commands?
So rather than burst into the barn and set it on fire (though she had no idea why or how she planned to do that) she stayed outside and watched through the still open door.
The lord's wife was talking to Harry, who was still working even this late at night in the barn. (Though, Hermione noticed, it wasn't work that couldn't have waited until the next day and she suspected he was just trying to look busy.) Harry ignored the lady as politely as he could, in spite of her subtle, and occasionally blatant, promises and suggestions. Hermione's heart soared when she saw this. Perhaps Harry really did love her after all! But the lord's wife was not to be refused. She cornered Harry and grabbed his arm with unexpected strength, and Harry was unwilling to strike a woman.
Hermione's heart, which but a second ago had been full of joy, filled with fury when she saw what the lady was doing. The fire of fury filled her heart and her eyes, and then her whole body. And then seemed to leap from her to the barn itself.
The lady's face suddenly blanched as she saw that fury of flames that leaped up around her. Desperate to escape her own doom, she released Harry with such violence that he was thrown against the wall and fled the building, not even stopping to notice Hermione was watching.
But Hermione suddenly didn't care about the lord's wife. Her mind was once again on Harry, who was now trapped in a burning barn. But when she looked in the open to door, ready to rush in and save him or die next to him, she saw that he was standing calmly in the ring of flames as if they had no power at all to harm him. Which, in fact, they didn't, as a moment later they blinked out of existence and left behind nothing but a few badly charred floor-planks.
"That was impressive," he called to Hermione when he noticed her watching him.
She came into the barn, feeling tongue tied for the first time in her life. "But I did nothing," she told him.
Harry ignored this argument and answered her only with another quiet "As you wish." They stood in some silence until Harry finally asked, "Why are you here."
"I...I came because I saw the lord's wife." Harry watched her, knowing there was more to the answer to than that. And Hermione knew, with a sudden clarity, what that answer was. In a rush, before she could change her mind about it, she told him, "And...and because...because I love you and I had to tell you."
Harry smiled at her, very slowly and very sweetly.
"And I want to know if you love me back."
Not a man to say more words than he has to, Harry nodded.
This time Hermione could not keep the joy she felt from showing on her face, from filling her heart and soul until she seemed to light the while barn from within herself. Seized by a sudden desire she had never paid much attention to before, she took a step closer to him.
"Then, I want you to kiss me."
"As you wish."
Harry and Hermione could not contain their love for each other after the night they had admitted it to each other. The very next morning the approached her father together and asked his blessing on them that they wished to be married. Hermione's father was overjoyed, for he loved Harry like a son and knew that he would be a better husband to his daughter than any lord with any wealth could ever be. He offered to have them married right away, that they could live with them on the farm until Harry had saved enough to get their own place, but Harry declined. It was, he said, a very poor thing indeed to marry a woman when he could not afford to give her a home of her own. And staying at the farm, he had no means to make any money which he could save up, because Hermione's parents could not afford to pay him.
Though it nearly broke Hermione's heart to let him do so, Harry said that he would travel across the sea to seek his fortune and return when he could give Hermione the life she deserved. Quietly and tearfully, he kissed his love goodbye and promised her that he would be gone no more than a year, two at the most. Hermione promised to wait for him, and that she would think of him every day.
After he left, Hermione went to her mother for advice. She had never been in love before, had never wanted to be beautiful for someone. Her mother was delighted for the opportunity to do what she had been trying to do for years.
Together, they worked on Hermione's hair with brushes and treatments and potions until it shone like silk in soft, dark brown waves. Hermione scrubbed her skin until it seemed to glow with health and rubbed lotion in all the places made rough from her work on the farm. She wore a wide hat to keep the sun off and protect her skin and her mother took special delight in refitting her clothes so that they showed off her womanly body to better advantage. With more money, he mother would have been even happier to give her daughter a new wardrobe, one not so outdated.
And so, over the course of a year while Hermione worked on being as beautiful as possible for Harry, she became (if such a list were kept) the 10th most beautiful girl in the world. And then the 7th. And then the 4th. And then, after she received her first letter from Harry and her faced glowed with such love and joy, the 2nd. In fact, is such a list had been kept, the keeper of it would have been hard pressed to keep up with all the changes that took place that year.
But then, shortly after Christmas, Hermione got another letter. This one was not from Harry, but rather from a friend of his that he had been traveling with by the name of Seamus. In it he told Hermione, with much hesitation, about the fate of her love. On the high seas traveling out of Gildur, Harry's ship had been attacked by the Wizard Pirate Grimwald, a pirate who performed such daring and dramatic feats that everyone claimed it must have been done by magic. He was also famous for never leaving prisoners alive. Harry had died before coming home to her.
When Hermione had finished reading this letter, she did not cry. She quietly passed it on to her mother and then, in a state of shock so complete she could not have talked if she tried, she walked to her room and bolted the door behind her.
For days no one saw her. Though her parents left food outside her door for her, she didn't so much as touch it. They heard no sounds of weeping or sorrow from behind her door and soon began to worry about her sanity, and then her health.
When she finally did emerge, she was beyond such things as heartache. She was instead serene and calm and wise, showing maturity far beyond her years. She had lost a true love, and it showed on her face with such heart-wrenching clarity that no one who looked upon her could remain unmoved. No one could keep their heart from her.
She ad become the most beautiful woman in the world.