Potter Abbey

Title: Potter Abbey

Author: ExcentrykeMuse

Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Darcy, (sideways) Mary Bennet/Harry Potter

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

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: homophobia, Regency Era homophobia, Squibs, beards

Summary: for dreamsloversandme : Harry/Darcy- I adored the last one you wrote for my prompt last year and would love to see this pairing again. Maybe this time Harry lands back in Regency era

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man, in possession of a good fortune, may not always go to a local assembly in search for a suitable wife.

Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was in residence of Netherfield Park with his friend Bingley and it was expected that they meet their new neighbors.  Bingley had received several calls and returned several of them in return.  Darcy had not been interested in meeting the new neighbors.  They undoubtedly came to tell Bingley about sisters and daughters and nieces, and Darcy was not looking for a bride at this time, and certainly not from the backwater of Hertfordshire.

“A gentleman came today,” Bingley said the night before the Assembley.  “He apologized for not coming before, but no one had informed him of my coming.”

“And who was that?” his sister Caroline inquired, sitting down at the pianoforte.

Bingley looked up from his book.  “A gentleman farmer.  He is new to the area as well.  Potter is his name.”

Potter, what a common name. 

“What a singular fellow he was.  He was barely old enough to go to Cambridge, but he has his own estate that he farms himself with the help of a servant.—I thought I’d ask about the family.  He doesn’t seem to have a mother or sisters.”

“It’s just him then,” Darcy noted, putting a book away.

“Yes,” Bingley agreed.  “It’s sad to be all alone in the world.”

Darcy agreed.  He often felt alone in the world, being more of a father than a brother to Georgiana.  He perhaps would like to see this Potter, too, despite the class distinction of his name.  Something about a man alone in the world intrigued him.

Dressing carefully for the Assembly, Darcy knew it was important that the distinction of rank be preserved.  Blackbourne, his man, dressed him carefully.  For some reason Darcy felt a sense of anticipation in the pit of his stomach and he wondered at himself. 

The Assembly Hall was loud and full of light and colors as the townspeople danced raucously to the music.  Darcy was awash with loudness and was glad when everything came to a halt at their arrival.  They were introduced to a Sir William Lucas, the preeminent gentleman in the Meryton area, and led forward.

Bingley was soon introduced to the Bennet sisters—there were five—and engaged the eldest to dance.  She was certainly the prettiest.  The second eldest tried to talk to Darcy, which was certainly her folly.

At the end of the dance, a man with dark blue eyes, spectacles, and messy black hair came up, leading what was clearly a Bennet daughter with her straw blonde hair and blue eyes.

“There!” he announced to Mrs. Bennet.  “Now you cannot say that Miss Mary never dances.—And now you cannot claim that I never dance either, Madam.”  He turned to look at Darcy and started.  “I do beg your pardon, sir.”

“Darcy of Pemberley,” he offered, giving over his hand.  His breath held.

The man considered him for a moment and then breathed out, giving his own hand.  “Harrogate Potter of Potter Abbey.”

As soon as Harrogate’s hand slipped into Darcy’s, Darcy could feel an energy slip up his arm and startle him.  His verdant eyes connected with Harrogate’s ocean blue ones, and he thought he saw some sort of recognition there.

“Yes,” Mrs. Bennet was now saying.  “Potter Abbey has been empty for well on four decades before our dear Mr. Potter came seeking his inheritance.  We are most fortunate to have him in our little community.”  She looked at him speculatively, not noticing their joint hands.  “Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you should like to fetch Mary a glass of lemonade or take Elizabeth for a dance?”

Harrogate turned to answer Mrs. Bennet, but Darcy interrupted:

“Where is Potter Abbey?”

“Oh,” he answered.  “On the other side of Meryton, beyond the high road.  If you go past Longbourne and just continue for another four or five miles, you shall find me.  I’m afraid the house is in quite a bit of disarray.  I only cleaned a bedroom and the kitchen.”

“I’m sure your true friends shall not mind that,” Darcy assured him, running his thumb over Harrogate’s knuckles. 

Harrogate didn’t even blink.

“Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Bennet fluttered.

Harrogate dropped Darcy’s gaze.  He turned to Mary Bennet who seemed rather shy.  “Shall you like lemonade or punch, Miss Mary?  I’m sure I’ll be able to find one or the other at the refreshments table.”

The girl had the decency to blush.

Of course, Darcy did not dance.  He instead lingered at the refreshment table, waiting for Harrogate to return the glasses to it. 

“You are certainly an elegant dancer,” he complimented not an hour later, as the sets were being reformed.  “Do you care to dance?”

Harrogate looked up at him with his dark blue eyes.  “My mother taught me,” he admitted.  “She was a great lady from a Yorkshire family.”  Smiling, he turned to Darcy.  “You do not care for the amusement, however.”

“I only dance with women of my closest acquaintance,” Darcy agreed.  “I danced with Miss Bingley when we first arrived.”

“Yes,” Harrogate agreed.  “She looks most pleased with herself.  Or is she pleased with her dowry?”

“Both, I imagine.”  Darcy had to hold in a chuckle.  Caroline meant to catch him, but he had no intention of being caught.  Instead, he had every intention of being caught by the man in front of him. 

Harrogate Potter was a tall, lithe man with a thin face, the darkest of blue eyes, and hair so messy it looked like Darcy had been making love to him all night.  Darcy would like nothing more than find a deserted room somewhere in this hall and kiss Harrogate’s upturned lips, but he knew that he would be acting too soon.  It wouldn’t do to startle Harrogate. 

Harrogate cleared his throat.  He must have noticed Darcy’s distraction. 

“Someone’s going to notice,” he warned, his voice low, as he picked up two more glasses of lemonade.

Darcy quickly reached out his hand and caught Harrogate’s wrist.  “Please don’t go back.”

Harrogate’s blue eyes softened.  “Miss Mary has never had the chance to be noticed before.  It’s the least I can do.”

“Then what about the next Assembly?”

“We’ll be friends by then,” Harrogate shrugged.  “You would not deny Miss Mary this.  She’s just a bullied young lady.”

Darcy’s mind immediately turned toward Georgiana and he immediately released Harrogate.  “May I call on you tomorrow?”

“I might be in the fields,” Harrogate preemptively apologized, but he offered Darcy a smile.  “I shall expect you.”  He then whispered away with the two glasses of lemonade.

Darcy spent the rest of the evening watching Harrogate with Miss Mary Bennet and feeling a raging jealousy in his heart.  He went to bed in bad spirits, which was noted by his man, but he woke up the next day with hope once again in his breast.

When Bingley left to call on the Bennets, Darcy left to call on Harrogate as it was in the same direction.  Potter Abbey was indeed a fine if run down looking estate, undoubtedly worth four thousand a year.  It needed good labourers and good hands, which Darcy would surely be able to find with the help of his agent. 

He knocked on the door, but found that there wasn’t a servant to open it.  He walked around and looked out at the fields, where a pair of oxen were ploughing.  There seemed to be two men in the fields, and one of them was surely Harrogate.

Riding out into the fields, Darcy looked down at Harrogate from his horse and said, “This won’t do.”

“It’s all I have,” Harrogate disagreed.

“You don’t have servants, do you?”

Harrogate laughed and shook his head.  “I don’t need them.”

Darcy looked back at the estate.  “Everyone needs servants.”

After they got the oxen back to the stables, which took well over an hour, Harrogate led him into the house despite being bathed in sweat.  “I have some bread,” he offered.  “Milk from the cow—”

“You definitely need servants.”

“With what money?” Harrogate asked, but Darcy wasn’t listening.  Instead, he had come up to Harrogate and had pulled him close, their lips mere inches away from each other.  “Tell me to stop.”

“Why would I do that?” Harrogate wondered.

Darcy swept off his hat and leaned in for a gentle kiss, but Harrogate turned it wanting, moaning into the kiss as he pressed forward.  Finding himself trapped between Harrogate and the wall, Darcy found he couldn’t mind, and he opened himself up to the onslaught of the passion that was Harrogate Potter.  Harrogate didn’t seem to want to disturb his toilette, so the kiss turned gentle, his hand coming up to cradle Darcy’s cheek and he stepped away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Harrogate murmured.

“—I wanted you to do that,” Darcy told him, following him further into the house and taking his wrist in his hand.  “I want to do more than that.”

“What more is there?” Harrogate asked in confusion.

Darcy looked at him kindly.  “So much more, Harrogate,” he promised, “can lie between two men.”

“Mother never said what lies between a man and a woman,” Harrogate confessed, clearly thinking.  “I’ve seen animals.  I can’t imagine James Potter doing that to her—The indignity!”

Darcy paused and tried to piece together the clues.  “It can be better than that—between a man and a man,” he promised carefully.  “It doesn’t have to be animalistic and—violent,” he guessed.

Harrogate looked up.  “That is a relief.”  He turned away again, but Darcy turned him back toward him and kissed him lingeringly.  “Are you bringing your mother here?”

“I can’t see how,” he admitted, looking around.  “It’s an absolute wreck.  A small apartment in York is certainly preferable, though I should like to make her a lady of society again.”

“It just needs a small infusion of coin,” Darcy told him, looking around at the respectably papered walls.  “A few hundred pounds for the house, another few hundred for the servants.”

“Where am I going to get that sort of money?  James Potter left me this house in his will, but I wasn’t left any coin for it.”

“I’ll have my lawyer look into it,” Darcy promised.  “The estate must come with coin.  There must be house accounts.”  He opened a door to the left and entered a room where all the furniture was covered with sheets.  It seemed like a sitting room.  “Potter Abbey was left in good repair.”

“It’s second only to Netherfield in the neighborhood,” Harrogate agreed.

Darcy kissed him for it.

Every day, Darcy would come at dinner time with a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese.  The kitchen had been cleaned up and Darcy and Harrogate dined with each other before they retired to Harrogate’s bedchamber.

Darcy would kiss Harrogate, taking off his neckcloth and running his hands over Harrogate’s shoulders.  He’d wait until Harrogate was asleep before slipping out and returning to Netherfield.

He felt like a seducer of virgins. 

—because Harrogate was certainly a virgin.

There was a gathering at Sir William Lucas’ home and they were set to attend.  “We can’t speak to each other,” Harrogate told him the night before as they lay in bed together, facing one another.  “What if someone notices?”

“No one is going to notice,” Darcy promised.

“Someone will notice,” Harrogate argued, as if he had reason to believe it.  “Someone always does.”

This made Darcy’s heart twist.

“Then I will merely drink my wine and stare into a mirror all night,” Darcy suggested, “and you can speak to a Bennet sister.”

“I’m not going to marry a Bennet girl.”

“Aren’t you?” Darcy asked.  “Don’t you need Potter children for the estate?”

“Don’t you need Darcy children for your estate?” Harrogate threw back in his face, and he wasn’t wrong.  That was the horrible truth; neither of them were wrong.

The night was horrible.  Harrogate spent the evening speaking with Mary Bennet, and Sir William tried to get Darcy to dance with her sister, Elizabeth.  Darcy was practically like a beast when he rode over to Potter Abbey that night and stripped Harrogate of his shirt and kissed a line down to his stomach before he stopped, mindful of the boundaries that were placed upon him, before kissing back up to Harrogate’s waiting lips.

The lawyer came back with news of a small fortune in the Abbey’s name.  Darcy immediately saw to the hiring of servants and field hands on Harrogate’s behalf, and the house was transformed within a fortnight.  With the transformation of the house, came the arrival of Lady Maia Gaunt. 

Lady Maia arrived in the dead of night and cloaked, barely a hand sticking out beyond the fabric.

Darcy had been in bed with Harrogate when the carriage arrived, and he’d quickly put on his cravat and coat and made ready to welcome her.

“Mother,” Harrogate greeted, reaching out and hugging her.  “How was your journey?”

A gaze shone out of the cloak and she murmured, “It was easier than I expected, Harrogate.  Who is this?”

“This is Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Mother.”

“Hmm… first, my child, a Squib.  Then Lord Roman and now Fitzwilliam Darcy.  I see you intend to break your mother’s heart.”

Harrogate’s face began to crumple but he quickly smoothed it of all emotion.  “I apologized for Lord Roman, Mother.  There is a very lovely young woman named Mary Bennet—”

“Hmm,” she sighed, coming into the Drawing Room, her hood turned directly toward Darcy.—”Young Man, I would be alone with my son.  It is late for calling hours.”

Darcy bowed to her, she did not offer her hand, and he left into the night, realizing that his hopes were being crushed with this woman’s arrival.  The benefit of being his own master, is he did not have to answer to anyone but himself.

He received a note the next day asking him not to come over, but promising him that Harrogate would see him soon.  It was six days and after the card party at Mrs. Philips’ house (where Mary Bennet spent the majority of her time being charmed by Harrogate) that Darcy saw Harrogate again.

It was well after eleven o’clock and Darcy was fortunate he had left the window unlocked.  He heard scrambling and then a messy black head popped up over the sash, and Harrogate was dropping a strange compass on the floor. 

“Harrogate!” he called.  Darcy ran over and pulled his lover over the edge of the window.

Harrogate sat on the floor, panting, staring, and smiling.  “I found you!”

“How did you—?” Darcy looked out the window to see that they were three flights up.  “You could have killed yourself.”

“I thought you wanted to see me.”

“Of course, I want to see you,” Darcy told him, leaning down and cupping his cheek, “but I don’t want you to kill yourself.”

Harrogate leaned in and kissed him.  “Well, this is how we can see each other,” he explained.  “My mother will never allow it.  She has her heart set on grandchildren.”

“Mothers,” Darcy complained.  “They have no place here.”  He helped Harrogate up and walked him over to the bed, leaving the compass on the floor, not realizing just how magical the device actually was.

The End.