Do You Believe in Magic?

Summary: On a trip to Vegas, Heather Potter wakes up with a wicked hangover and hazy memories of the night before. Turns out, she was about to be married to someone who planned on sacrificing her to a demon, but she was saved by Zatanna! Feeling that she owes a life debt to the magical hero, she sticks around, much to Zatanna's consternation.

Crossover: Harry Potter/DC (Zatanna)

Pairing: Heather Potter/Zatanna

A/N: Another Blood Brandy Marriage Challenge response... but with a twist. This time, our protagonist is rescued from getting married, but she sticks around due to magical ties to her rescuer. Sparks fly between the two, and not always in a good way! There might be potential here, though I'm not sure. The problem is that I don't actually have a story — the only purpose being served here so far is to throw Zatanna and Heather together to see what happens. It's fluffy and funny, but that's about it.

In principle, it should be easy to combine this with an adventure of some sort. Intertwined with the adventure would be the development of their relationship, Heather coming to terms with the idea of settling down with one person and becoming a responsible adult, Zatanna coming to terms with the fact that she fancies girls, etc. Preferably, the plot of this adventure would somehow mirror the personal development of the characters — for example, Zatanna's brother Zachary getting into trouble due to his own irresponsible behavior.

As always, thanks to Bonnie for not only reading this and improving on the original, but also for her help in developing the plot so far.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Zatanna, DC does.

Chapter 01 - Wild Side

Heather only became aware that she was conscious due to the terrible pounding in her head. That, combined with the dry, cottony feeling in her mouth, made it abundantly clear that she was suffering from the mother of all hangovers.

Merlin, even the morning after our graduation party wasn't this bad!

She tried to open her eyes, but the bright light made her groan and close them again. When that proved to not be enough, she put a hand over her face to shield them.

Neither was my welcoming party in France, come to think of it...

"Sorry," came an unfamiliar voice, and even through her hand, she could tell that the lights had dimmed.

That doesn't sound like Fleur or any of her cousins, she thought muzzily as she cautiously squinted through a gap in her fingers, this time getting a look at the room she was in. Nope, definitely not my room in France... oh, right. Hermione came and told me that it wasn't a 'world tour' if I spent all my time on French beaches with a bunch of veela. According to her, three months was more than enough and that I'd better get a move on.

Using both hands to keep her head from exploding, she slowly sat up on what she now recognized as a couch. Of course, if I'd realized that Hermione would end up staying herself, I might not have taken her arguments quite as seriously. Guess my letters home describing how much fun I was having were a bit too good.

"Are you feeling any better?"

Heather turned towards the voice and had to blink hard several times before accepting that the sight in front of her wasn't an illusion. It was a woman — that much she'd already known — but she had trouble processing the idea of such a buxom torso clad in a cleavage-revealing tuxedo top combined with long, muscular legs sheathed in fishnet stockings.

A slow smile crept across her face. I may not remember last night, or even know where I am, but the morning after sure is looking promising...

"What do you remember last?" the woman asked, interrupting Heather's thoughts as she stared down at her with an expression of concern.

Heather frowned. That's a good question. "Uh... I'm not sure. I remember being in France quite clearly, but for some reason..." How much did I have to drink, anyway? I never have this much trouble remembering things.

The woman sighed and sat in an armchair across from her. "I was afraid of that. What's the last date you remember?"

Heather's brow furrowed in concentration. "I think, maybe... September? Yes, late September. I'm sure about that because I remember that the height of summer tourism had wound down."

"Well, today is November 1st, so it looks like you lost the entire month you've been here."

"What?! How? And where's 'here'?"

"Las Vegas."

Heather rubbed at her temples. Vegas was one of the places I wanted to visit, so that sounds plausible...

"Do you remember a chapel last night?"

She concentrated again, and this time she was able to dig up a vague, hazy memory. "As a matter of fact... yeah. Or maybe. There was a wedding of some sort. And I was... I was getting married!" She shoved down her rising panic as she groped for more details. "There was also this woman there — she was pretty cute — and she was wearing... a tuxedo..." Heather trailed off and looked the woman up and down again. "Hey, does that mean you and I—?"

The woman jumped slightly in her seat. "What? No! Absolutely not!"

"Oh." Heather slumped back in her seat, oddly disappointed for some reason. Not that I want to be tied down at this point in my life — there's far too much to explore and fun to be had. But if I had to wake up to a surprise marriage, I could have done a lot worse. Not many women can rock a tux like this one. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Sorry about that — my name is Zatanna Zatara. Would you like some water?"

Heather nodded gingerly. "That would be great, thanks. My name is Heather, by the way. Heather Potter."

"Ereh Emoc Ssalg Dna Rehctip Retaw!" Zatanna said, holding out her hands to catch a pitcher and glass that flew towards her from a table on the other side of the room.

Heather frowned at the unfamiliar incantation. Maybe it's how they learn here in America? It's not like there's anything especially magical about bad pseudo-Latin. I wonder if she has any hangover potions? Aloud, she said only, "Thanks," as she gratefully drank it down and handed it back for a refill. "So, um..." she went on awkwardly, "would you happen to know if I am in fact married, and if so, to whom?"

"Right, sorry — I should probably catch you up on recent events," Zatanna said while Heather sipped at her second glass. "You travelled to Vegas a month ago — I know this because I had to look into your background to understand what happened to you. When you arrived, you checked into the Paradise Resort, a casino and hotel owned by Sonny Raymond. His father, Benjamin Raymond, built the place back in 1947 when Vegas was first getting started. Or at least, that's what everyone thought."

Zatanna handed over a newspaper with a picture of a young, handsome man on the front. "As it turns out, Sonny was really Benjamin all along — he only told people that he was Benjamin's son so they wouldn't question why he hasn't aged a day in all these decades."

"Let me guess: it has something to do with that wedding I remember?"

Zatanna nodded. "Indirectly, yes. When Raymond started out here, he did so with the aid of a powerful backer. Not the mob, as was the case with so many casinos, but rather a demon named Mammon."

"Mammon? Doesn't that have something to do with greed?"

"Exactly. Raymond built his casino and several other buildings in Vegas to honor the demon, but that's not all. He wanted eternal youth and life, which Mammon was willing to grant, but at a price: the sacrifice of innocent souls. Raymond couldn't simply force people to become sacrifices, however. They had to give themselves willingly. To achieve this, he got them to drink a love potion. Once under the potion's influence, they eagerly agreed to a whirlwind wedding. It wasn't him they ended up marrying, though. Instead, the ceremony was perverted to have them give up their souls to Mammon. None of the victims likely realized this until their final vows were said and the demon collected their souls."

"Ugh!" Heather was barely able to avoid throwing up. "So, I've been under the influence of a love potion for a month? And I nearly gave my soul to a demon?"

"Not exactly," Zatanna replied. "Near as I can figure, you've been resisting the effects of the potion for a month. It still screwed with your mind, thus your memory loss. Some of your memories might come back, actually, now that you're free of the potion, but you shouldn't count on it. It was only yesterday that Raymond was able to get full control over you, probably because of the cumulative effects of constantly dosing you for several weeks."

"That doesn't make me feel much better. How could I have been so stupid and gullible?" Mad-Eye would have my hide for such carelessness!

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Zatanna said, leaning forward in her chair. "From what I've been able to determine, most of his victims succumb within a day. The fact that you were able to resist a potion originally created by a demon is nothing short of miraculous." She paused to consider her next words, then apparently opted for honesty. "However, my sources do tell me that you were seen drinking and partying heavily almost every night in his casino. I doubt that helped your ability to resist."

"Wait," Heather said as the blood drained from her face. "Last night was October 31st, wasn't it?" Zatanna nodded. "Bloody hell," Heather groaned. "Bloody Halloween! I thought I was past that sort of thing." She buried her head in her hands.

After a long moment, Zatanna asked gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not especially," came the muffled reply. Then she exhaled heavily, raking her fingers down her face as she looked up again. "Let's just say I've not had an easy life. Once I finally... well, once I was done with some things that only I could do, a friend of mine suggested I take a break. Unwind." Zatanna nodded. "I decided to travel, see the world. I'd never been outside of Britain before, and it seemed like a good idea. And once I did, once I was out on my own..." She trailed off.

"Once you were free of the expectations of friends and family, free from the rules of school and work, you found yourself without any boundaries?" Zatanna suggested. "There wasn't anyone telling you 'no,' so you simply did whatever felt good at the time?"

Heather grimaced. "You make me sound like a total party animal — with emphasis on the 'animal'!"

"Not really," Zatanna insisted. "It's a common enough story, and we certainly see a lot of it here in Vegas. People step away from their daily lives and into a highly permissive environment where they're allowed to do all sorts of things they wouldn't even think about trying back home. It's good, actually, to have a chance to consider whether you'd be happier by being a different sort of person from what others expect of you. But it's also easy to take that to excess and lose yourself entirely. I think you were on that path, and in a more literal way than is usually the case."

"I suppose so," Heather said, feeling only slightly better. Maybe I need to step back and consider some changes. I don't want my tombstone to say, "Vanquished Voldemort, Killed by the Afterparty."

Time enough for that later, though. With deceptive casualness, she said, "By the way, where's Raymond now? I'd like to have a few words with him."

"I wouldn't recommend seeking him out," Zatanna replied, her smile predatory. "It took him so long to deal with you that the deadline for his next payment to Mammon had just about run out. Once I spoiled his wedding plans, he had no more time to find an alternative sacrifice — not that I would have let him. Mammon tried to collect his soul." Heather raised one eyebrow, and Zatanna sighed. "No, I couldn't let that happen, not even to him. So I transformed him into a statue of gold. His soul is trapped, but he's not actually being tortured. Mammon now has a golden statue which he enjoys looking at, and so won't be coming after anyone else here."

"I guess that will have to do," Heather said, relaxing slightly. "So, uh... how close was I to losing my soul?"

"Too close. If I'd been a minute or two later, it would have been too late. And I barely made it out of that chapel alive myself. It was filled with the soulless husks of his past victims, animated by the power Mammon had been feeding him over the decades."

Heather sighed heavily as she set the empty glass on the table between them. "So you're telling me that you risked your life to save mine?"

"I suppose... but it's not a big deal. I've done things like that before."

"Not to someone like me, I'll bet," Heather said as she massaged her temples.

"What do you mean? What's different about you?"

"The fact that you saved my life at great risk to your own means that I owe you a life debt." She paused to consider the implications of her rescue. "And you may have risked your soul to save mine, which complicates matters greatly. Can there even be a soul debt?"

"I don't understand — what's a life debt, and what does it have to do with you being different?"

"Because we're both magical," Heather replied. She twitched her right hand, causing her wand to shoot out from its disillusioned holster. Zatanna's eyes bulged as Heather incanted, "Aguamenti!" and a stream of water burst from her wand, filling the glass in front of her.

"Well, that's... different," Zatanna said, obviously curious. "I've never seen magic like that. But what does it have to do with this life debt?"

"A life debt is a magical obligation," Heather explained as she picked up the glass to drink. "It can only exist between two magical people. My magic knows that you saved me, and it will push me to even the scales between us."

"How?"

"Ignoring for now how the possibility of a soul debt might complicate things, the usual way is by tying my life to yours through marriage or by saving your life in return."

"What?" Zatanna exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. "That's ridiculous! I don't want to be owed such a debt! It... it... it would be like enslaving you, and I'd never do such a thing!"

"Oh, really?" Heather said dubiously.

"What?"

Her eyes moved to Zatanna's tall, black boots, and slowly moved up her legs to her tuxedo top. Zatanna shifted uncomfortably before Heather finally said, "With an outfit like that, I figured you were used to people prostrating themselves at your feet, begging to follow your orders."

Zatanna's face went scarlet. "That... that's outrageous! I do no such thing! This is a costume! It's part of my stage act! I'm a magician and perform shows here in Vegas!"

"So, you never wear this except as part of your stage act?"

"Exactly!"

"Like right now?"

Zatanna sputtered, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking defensive. "Well... mostly," she finally managed.

"Uh-huh." I ain't buying it. People don't wear outfits like that for comfort, especially if they live and work in the desert.

"Look, none of that matters. You don't owe me a debt. If you ever did, I hereby declare it fulfilled."

Heather shook her head as she put the glass back down again. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. I can feel myself being pulled towards you as it is. I'm sure it's my magic demanding that the debt be repaid, and it must be a large debt for me to be conscious of it so soon." Silently, she added, That, or I never knew how sexy fishnet stockings and a tuxedo top could be...

Zatanna flopped back down into her chair. "So, I'm responsible for the life I saved?"

"Something like that."

"And if I push you away, I guess it will end up causing you harm?"

Heather nodded.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to marry you," Zatanna declared, and Heather once again found herself suppressing an odd twinge of disappointment. "However, as I implied before, I do regularly find myself dealing with dangerous situations. I'm sure that if you stick around long enough, you'll find an opportunity to save my life, thus erasing the debt."

"So, I need an excuse to be close to you on a pretty constant basis?" Heather asked, her spirits rising once again... until she saw the smirk on Zatanna's face. I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

"Are you ready yet? Curtain goes up in ten minutes!" Zatanna tapped her foot as she looked at her watch.

"I can't come out — I'm naked!" Heather exclaimed.

"Then put on the costume I gave you! Stop wasting time!"

"I did put it on! And I'm still naked!"

By now most of the backstage crew were lingering nearby, curious how this conversation was going to turn out.

"Kcolnu rood!" Zatanna said, and Heather's tiny dressing room door clicked open.

"Look at me!" Heather cried now that she no longer had the privacy of her room. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"

Zatanna looked her up and down in what almost passed for a professional manner, but Heather caught the slight tinge of pink in the magician's cheeks. "You look fine," Zatanna said, her voice a bit huskier than normal.

Heather put her hands on her hips and stared hard at her new employer. "Fine for a beach in France, maybe."

"You sound like you know that from experience," Zatanna said with a slightly nervous laugh.

Heather shrugged in a deliberately exaggerated manner, noting how Zatanna's eyes seemed fixated by the sight. "I suppose I do at that. I spent most of my time this past summer on a private beach owned by a French veela colony."

"Veela?"

"They're a magical subspecies of humans comprised entirely of supernaturally beautiful blonde women, and they practically live on nude beaches. No men allowed. It was... educational." For all of us, too. The veela had never encountered a female parselmouth before, and if Hermione hadn't forced me to move along, they might have made me an honorary member of their colony.

Zatanna blinked a few times before getting a glazed look as she stared off into space.

"Anyway," Heather said, raising her voice enough to break her employer out of her trance, "I think you only gave me something so skimpy to wear because you wanted to ogle me."

"What? That's absurd!" Zatanna insisted. Then she narrowed her eyes. "How can you be so bothered by this if you're accustomed to nude beaches?"

Heather shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "That was different," she said lamely.

Zatanna arched one eyebrow.

"Well, for one thing, that was all women," she tried again, "all of whom I got to know and who were naked as well. And even then it took me awhile to get used to it. Here, I'll be on display in front of a bunch of strangers. On top of that, well, after my experiences with Raymond..."

Zatanna's expression softened. "I guess I can understand. But you have to understand that your outfit is normal for women in Vegas stage acts. It's the same outfit all my past female assistants have worn — that's why I already had it."

"Oh, really?" Heather asked, cocking her hip. "So it's not just me? You typically dress your female employees in skimpy outfits so you can ogle them? No wonder you have a casting couch in your office. And here I thought I was special."

Zatanna blushed hard and sputtered incoherently in response.

That'll teach you to dress me up like this before putting me on a stage in front of strangers. Heather exited her dressing room, making a point of brushing Zatanna as she passed while obviously swaying her hips. "Well, that's alright. I can hardly complain, since I've been ogling you since I woke up on your casting couch. Turnabout is fair play."

Zatanna remained silent after that and refused to look her in the eye, even during the parts of her act where Heather played a role. However, she did catch Zatanna glancing in her direction whenever she thought Heather wasn't looking.

Maybe I won't regret this after all.