Perfectly Imperfect

TITLE: Perfectly Imperfect

Author: ExcentrykeMuse

Fandom(s): Pride & Prejudice / Harry Potter Series

Pairing(s): Harry Potter / Fitzwilliam Darcy

Word Count: 1k

Rating: PG

Prompt: mebubbles: Congratulations! Wishing you the best in your new job.
Could I get Harry dropped in Pride & Predjudice or Darcy dropped in the Wizarding World? Can’t wait to see others prompts!

Perfectly Imperfect

“It does not signify,” Darcy told him as they waited for their butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.  Darcy, a man with no magic, who had fallen from the sky in a way that could only be called magical, was Harry’s greatest ally in his quest not to marry Ginny Weasley.  “She wants to marry you—that she has made perfectly plain with these… speeches, for lack of a better term…”

“Gossip,” Harry interjected, smiling.

Darcy looked over at him and gave him a small smile, one that was reserved only for him.  “I would not like to speak of a lady so, but, yes, gossip.  Ginny Weasley wants to marry you and has started gossip wherever she goes that the feeling is mutual.  Is it mutual?”

Harry opened his mouth to deny it, but Darcy spoke for him.—

“No, it is not.  Ergo, it does not signify.”

Harry laughed at his friend.  “Is everything so simple from the other place?”

Darcy looked at him blandly.  “I do not know what you mean, Harry.”

“No, of course not.” 

The Other Place, or, perhaps, the Other Time, was the place where Darcy came from.  He had arrived from 1811 in a twister of magic three years previously and Harry, who had found him and immediately loved him, had arranged it all with the goblins to have his titles and lands of Pemberley returned to him after certain blood tests had been administered.  The name of Fitzwilliam Darcy, after all, was a name of power—and a name that had not been heard since one Fitzwilliam Darcy had gone riding in a storm in 1811 the day before he was to set out to Netherfield Hall with friends nearly two centuries previously—until the day Harry Potter had found him.

Harry sat back.  “She told her mother.”

Darcy rolled his eyes.  “That harpy.”

“Mrs. Weasley is not—”

“—she is a harpy,” Darcy disagreed in a perfectly agreeable tone.  “She has made it her duty to get all of her children married since the end of your little war—”

“Little war!” Harry scoffed with a smile on his face, thinking fondly of how Darcy thought that no one could be as bad as Napoleon Bonaparte.

“Bill Weasley to that beautiful French woman—” (being French being the sin of all sins) “—she’s still working on Charlie—”

“(he’s gay)” Harry muttered under his breath, wondering if homosexuality would ever occur to a man such as Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Darcy, however, didn’t seem to hear.  “Then there’s that Ministry official that no one seems to like.  He’s married to that Audrey woman.  Your friends Ron and Hermione are engaged to one another although they can’t stop fighting.”  He raised his eyebrows to show what he thought of that marriage.  “That just leaves Ginny and you—”  He tapped Harry’s knee with his folded up copy of that day’s Daily Prophet.  “You’re the one standing in the way.”

“I don’t mean to,” Harry apologized to no one in particular.

“No, chin up,” Darcy told him.  “If you married that horrible little girl, we couldn’t be so easy with each other as we are now.”  A dark look passed over her face.  “She’s just so—”

“—orange,” Harry supplied, comparing her unfavorably with his mother who had similar coloring.

“—female,” Darcy concluded.

Harry’s green eyes snapped up to Darcy who was decidedly looking at the folded up copy of The Prophet.  “I—female?”

This snapped Darcy back to attention.  “The fairer sex have their advantages,” he agreed.  “My sister was a fine young lady with several admirable qualities, but she certainly was not a conversationalist—”

His mind revving up and shutting back down, Harry stared at his dearest friend.

Everyone hated Darcy, especially the Weasleys.  As soon as Harry had seen Darcy, it had been the end for him.  All the pieces that had been swirling about in his mind had slotted together for him.  His disinterest in Parvati, his belief that Cho’s kisses were wet, his fascination with Viktor Krum and his slight crush on Cedric Diggory, his forced feelings for Ginny—they all made sense when presented with the perfectly imperfect stature of the haughty, brilliant, and beautiful Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire.

Knowing where and when Darcy had come from, he cautiously stated, “Well, wizards can marry men.”

Darcy’s head snapped up.  “Surely that’s unusual.”

“Unusual,” he agreed with a shrug, “but still possible.—Charlie’s available,” he teased.

“Not that lout,” Darcy commented darkly, “he’d be just as bad.”

Harry shook his head in amusement and looked over at his friend who seemed to once again be overly interested in his paper.

“When did it last happen?”

“I don’t know,” Harry murmured.  “I know Dumbledore and Grindelwald were lovers before Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald in battle decades later.”

This seemed to take Darcy by surprise.  “You’ve spoken with great respect of Albus Dumbledore.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, his mind turning back in time.  “He guided me through the Wizarding World when I first arrived as a scared boy of eleven.  I was so alone then.”

Strong fingers touched the back of his hand, and Harry looked up to see Darcy’s bright blue eyes looking at him.  “Men would be hanged for even suggesting, let alone acting upon—”

“Not here,” Harry promised.  “That’s why you hate Ginny so much, isn’t it?”

Darcy looked briefly out of the window and sighed.  “I do not like to think myself prone to fits of jealousy.”

Harry laughed softly.  “It’s a good look on you.”

Turning, Darcy looked at him.  Their eyes met and held and then, it was as if a switch flipped in Darcy’s head, and he was taking great strides toward Harry and was grasping him by the shoulders.  “In vain I have struggled.  It will not do!  My feelings will not be suppressed.  You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Leaning up, Harry kissed the rest of the speech from his lips.  “If that’s all,” he murmured, and kissed him again.

The End.