Jump to new as of October 24, 2000
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Jump to new as of January 24, 2001
Part I Posted on Tuesday, 10 October 2000
I want to acknowledge my indebtedness for inspiration to JK Rawling's Potter books, and to the great old movies like Gold Diggers of 1933, History is made at Night, Divorce of Lady X and I married a witch
List of Characters:
Liz Bennet: adventuress extraordinaire
William Darcy: a divorce barrister
Charles Bingley: a songwriter with one idea
Jane Bennet.: that idea
Caro Bingley: a witch
Louisa Bingley: a witch in training
Howard Hobard Hubert Hurst: retired professor of herbology
Kitty Ten-leaf: a very sharp cat. And maybe something more.
Georgiana Darcy: No time for this story. She's majoring in engineering.
George Wickham: a Quidditch player who falls off his broom
L'a'd'y Catherine de B'o'u'r'g'h: a muggle if there ever was one
Liddy Bennet: a nuisance
Mr Bennet: a magic memory
Mrs Bennet: !!!!!!!!
Mary: a librarian. Therefore a very important person
Charlotte: a former model. Unhappy in love
Mr Collins: a former human being. Char's husband
Colonel: a dashing headwaiter
AND
various others that shall no doubt occur to the authoress
Liz Bennett did not believe in magic. Too smart, too cynical. Too old. 22 was definitely too old.
However when the Harry Potter books came out she was unwillingly mesmerized by the bright, magical world. But that was highly unsurprising since the rest of England seemed to be gripped by a similar mania. Even Liddy, highly illiterate as she was, managed to read nine pages before consigning the book to oblivion. And that was surely a record in itself.
Not that Liz had much to do, aside from reading the books. Her job after all, fell through again. The new show was going to be great all right, but Robert Ferrars, in charge of production, when offered a dazzling tap dance routine by the Heroine, wanted to see more than just her legs. (Not that the author blames him much, you understand. If you look like a ferret, you have to resort to desperate measures to get dates).
All he got for his trouble got a swift no, and an even swifter kick in the ummmm...pants.
So now all that Liz did was sit at home, look through the ads, paint her fingernails and her toenails (one coat, two coats, three coats...then they start flaking), and read Harry Potter.
Oh and talk to Jane.
Allow me to remedy my foresight and introduce Jane. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. But since we all have our own ideas as to what the most beautiful girl in the world would look like, I will omit a description and just let everyone imagine his own (feel free to insert the authoress' image).
Not only was she beautiful, she also had a job. She worked in a publishing agency by day, and in a nightclub at night. When did she sleep? Well, being so beautiful, she did not need any beauty sleep, and she made the most of it.
She was the sole breadwinner (and butter, and 2% milk, and hazelnut nutella-winner) in the family. Liddy worked in a beautician's shop, but all the money she earned went to the lucky (and already rich) editors of Cosmopolitan, Mademoiselle, Redbook, and Playgirl. Liddy wanted to be thin, thin, thin and BEAUTIFUL. In capital letters, so she could get her man. But since she was mainly unsuccessful so far (due no doubt to the misguided purple and green make-up), Playgirl solaced her lonely nights.
You, the astute reader, have no doubt perceived by now, this story has unreal, magical elements in it (such as Liddy who has a JOB.) Wait and don't be impatient, and soon we will get some real magic.
Now, since the three sisters have been introduced, we should get to the remaining member of the family. The mother. Mrs. Bennet. Otherwise known as the exclamation point. Whenever she opened her mouth, all that a reasonable person would hear was !!!!!!, so shrill and fast, and meaningless was her speech. Crowned Homecoming Queen back in 1964, she had never let anyone forget it since. What happened to the unlucky (and hopefully deaf) Mr. Bennet was a deep mystery. Well, not really, since the authoress knows it already, and you will soon, but to Liz, Jane and Liddy is was a MYSTERY. Mrs. Bennet exhibited a surprising reticence whenever the subject came up. All her !!!!! became merely ...?..?...
Today, just as Liz read for the umpteenth time "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," and just got to the part where Sirius Black morphed from a dog to a very, very annoyed human, and about to get his hands on his arch enemy, Jane waltzed in, all radiant with her announcement.
"Charlie Bingley asked me to marry me. I said "yes""
Bingley was a songwriter. From a fairly affluent background, he came to the publishing agency to see a friend, and Lady Luck smiled on him: in the reception room he met Jane. The two have been fairly inseparable since then, and now it seemed that true love would conquer all once again.
But where would be the story in that? So as Liz was ecstatically hugging Jane, in a separate location, a handsome, tall, and dark William Darcy thundered to his unfortunate friend Charles Bingley: "Have you gone out of your MIND????? You want to ally yourself with that family???!!!"
What he did not know was that before this story is over, he was going to disgrace himself in a highly reprehensible and (similar) manner himself.
In another part of the world (yes, quite another), Thomas Bennet, professor emeritus of muggle studies at Hogwarts Academy (yes, the same Hogwarts as in Harry Potter), gazed into his daily cup of buttermilk. The time had come to contact his family, he thought. He hadn't seen the girls in such a time. And this time he'll go as himself. No more turning into toads, lizards or snails for him. He had no mind to be an escargot dish. Sighing contentedly, he finished munching on his bun, and got out his magic wand. "Take me to Meryton" said he sternly and pointed North-northeast.
Part II Posted on Wednesday, 11 October 2000
Darcy was furious as his long, long legs took him in the direction of Meryton. The Bennets. He did not like the idea of Mere Golddiggers for his best friend.
Now before you go out and tear the hero's lovely hair and throw dirt at his splendid suit, I have to mention that the only members he had met so far were Mrs. Bennet and Liddy. The two women were inveterate court attendees, and what better than a juicy divorce case. Almost as good as introducing yourself to the tall, dark and handsome (and long legged) barrister. Which they did. Even if he'd leave after 2 milliseconds. Which he did. Barristers are not known for their politeness. Note: no offense to barristers intended. No barristers were harmed in the creation of this story.
So now you see why our hero (since he is being disagreeable he does not deserve a capital H yet), who defined marriage as a divorce in the making, tall, dark and handsome as he was (and don't forget long-legged), clutched his Byronic brow as he strode (strided? Strid?) down the deserted street and muttered "It shall not be!"
His striding clutching and muttering were interrupted as he almost stumbled over a short rotund man with a flowing white beard.
"Excuse me," asked the stranger politely, "which way is to Meryton?"
Darcy curtly pointed. No hero likes to be turned from Byronic to Ridiculous (with a capital R) within 7.53 seconds, which is exactly how long it took. (The authoress knows because she had been watching Olympic swimming earlier and learned about stopwatches.)
The man raised his pointy black hat and bowed, his robes billowing around him. And yet Darcy barely noticed the strange costume. Which was a pity. For very soon strange things will start to happen.
As he strode (strid? Stided?) into the dark again, Thomas Bennet examined his wand ruefully and decided that a new one should be most welcome. Conjuring a broom, he flew off to what he hoped was Meryton.
When Darcy arrived at the Bennets' house, his worst fears were realized. It was bright electric orange and was shaped like a pumpkin. It was the most un-housy looking house he had ever seen. Plainly, no woman living in this kind of a house was going to be respectable or reasonable or reserved or any of those other high-minded words starting with R.
In truth, he needn't have worried. The house puzzled the family almost as much as it did him. Mrs. Bennet was happy enough with the shape, which she thought made it stand out among the "drab" neighborhood, but the color did not appeal to her. Orange did not suit her complexion. Liddy did not care about the color (a person who wears purple and green make-up tends to be indulgent toward others' colorblindness,) but its rotundidy did concern the girl who only thought thin thin thin. Jane would have preferred something more tasteful in pale cream perhaps. Only Liz found the house oddly appealing.
It really did not matter. The house was the relic of the MYSTERIOUS and disappeared Mr. Bennet, and much as they tried to rough down the corners and paint it white, green, or even purple ever since, it still remained just as round and as orange as ever. Caro Bingley who Mr. Bennet bought the house from liked orange. Liked it a lot. And she knew just how to make a long-lasting spell.
Mr. Darcy pressed the doorbell and to his immense happiness the door was not opened by Mrs. Bennet (out cold in her bedroom, taking her daily 4-hour nap. Not being a beauty like Jane, she DID need her beauty sleep), or Liddy (out in the beautician's parlor curling Mrs. Hofferstrasser's hair).
The pretty girl standing in the doorway then, must be Jane.
"Jane," he began peremptorily, overriding a startled squeak. "I have come about my friend Charlie. You've got him in your clutches, but if you promise to release him, I will give you a check for $50,000. You are no fit match for him, and I know there can be no love for him in your heart. After all you come from a gold-digger family!"
(Our hero's language was ridden with clichés but it's not entirely his fault. Only last night did Darcy peruse with interest "Lord Lanoven's Bride: the Flames of Passion," and there was just such a speech in it. Yes, his secret is out. Darcy, confirmed cynic that he was, liked romance novels on the sly: even barristers need to relax.)
Now, the speech was partially effective: the girl stood there goggling at him, so it must have penetrated. However, it was not as effective as he wished. Since he was talking not to "the most beautiful woman in the world" but her sister, our Heroine, Liz.
Why such a mistake? Well, he did not know about Liz. Bingley was too lovesick to mention anyone besides Jane. As would you be if you were him. Good thing too. After all, no one wants a boyfriend that keeps babbling about your sister.
Liz was seething inside. That arrogant, snide, condescending, overbearing...long-legged, snob! She was going to show him. Liz was always impulsive, and now, before she had a chance to reflect, what came out of her mouth was:
"Or really, Mr...?. I won't give Charlie so easily. *nudge, nudge* A harpy like me has to think ahead. *giggle, giggle* What can you offer to persuade me, handsome? *wink, wink*"
"My name is Darcy" replied Darcy stiffly. "How about we get something to eat and I'll try to 'persuade' you, Jane?"
"A'right, cutsie-patootsie" giggled the (pretend) Jane. Hey, at least I get a decent meal out of this. thought Liz. Two weeks of Liddy's cooking were enough to give anyone the creeps.
They departed arm in arm. Two minutes later, the doorbell rang again. Then, since no one came to the door, Mr. Thomas Bennet, professor emeritus of muggle studies at Hogwarts academy, floated through the window and settled himself comfortably on the sofa cushions (bright orange), prepared to wait for Jane and Liz. He fully intended to make himself invisible if Liddy or Mrs. Bennet showed up.
Part III Posted on Friday, 13 October 2000
The dinner was not going as planned. Not by Darcy anyway.
The "minx" or "hoyden" as his favorite reading referred to the girls of that kind, was not a whit abashed when he took her to a posh Russian restaurant called impressively (and unpronounceably) "The Voyevoda." Most humiliatingly, she was not impressed either. Really, our tall, dark, and handsome (and long -legged) barrister was most perplexed.
The crowning coup de grace came with the menu. The girl could apparently read Russian, and picked the meal for BOTH of them.
"Jane" was rattling off "blah-blah-blah" (at least according to Darcy) to an inexplicably Thai waiter. In reality she was ordering "borsht, kotleti-po-kievski, tsiplyonka tabaka etc etc" ( Note: Purely gratuitous information. The author put it in because she is hungry.), Darcy was reflecting on two things. One was that he took Welsh in college, and the other was that this girl was, well, well, well, well...all right, all right, there is no other way to put it, attractive!
In fact she was so attractive that if he was Lord Locmaven, or Chief Eagle Hawk, or M'Gregor of M'Gregor or...or any other of the heroes of the novels he had on his shelf, he would interrupt this demonstration of how many ways a chicken could be slaughtered and drag her off to a quiet nearby battle or a heather field or any of the other necessary props and snog her silly.
Which was bad. Very bad. Considering that she was a vixen (Darcy decided she was way past the minx and hoyden stage), and that he came to rescue her from his best friend...errr, to rescue his best friend from her! (Our hero should really watch those Freudian slips)
Once the ordering was done, Liz turned to him and explained with a sweet smile. "You see, Darce," ("Darce" cringed) "I used to go out with that bloke in the Russian mafia. Before I Left him for that Irish gunrunner. But that's old memory, even before the Ethiopian twins. But awful useful them things are. So, what's the offer? I say you take me out to dinner a couple more times, and I might be tempted to bring down my offer to a few grand..." and she leered again. Darcy was rescued by a soup tureen's timely arrival.
Five minutes later he felt his knee squeezed, and five seconds later, to his horror, and quite without his volition, he was responding in kind.
The dinner was progressing most satisfactorily, indeed. (The waiter, counting his tip, thought so too).
Part IV Posted on Wednesday, 18 October 2000
Liz and Darcy meandered slowly home from dinner.
Darcy knew he should have offered her the check during dinner, but maybe Bingley shouldn't get saved after all...the lucky devil!...well, not right away anyway. He did need to get to know her better first...much better..."in his barristerial capacity only, of course." (voice of conscience) "yeah, right, go ahead think that" (the rest of Darcy)
After their first knee-grab they did not progress any further.
Reasons?
"the dishes were too good to miss" (Liz)
"this girl made him want to behave like Lord Devil St. Anne from "Rippling Rake" and that was illegal in restaurants. Even Russian ones" (Darcy).
Liz was amused but acted disappointed. Darcy was disappointed, but acted... disappointed.
As they neared the pumpkin house, a short and benign looking man stepped out and welcomed them cordially. "Welcome back, Liz!". Her eyes widened with surprise then with pleasure.
"Dad" she mouthed and sprang into his arms.
"Unhand(!) this(!) lady(!) instantly(!)" demanded Darcy. He almost added "you rascally knave(!)"
The pair looked at him with exasperation in their eyes.
"This is (my) (her) father!" answered they in unison.
But Darcy was not a leading light of the legal profession for nothing. His keen mind spotted a fatal flaw in that argument, and he pounced (or sprang or jumped upon)
"How can you be her father when you don't even know her name"
"Even I know it's Jane" said Darcy sounding righteous (another one of those noble R words). "This young lady is Jane."
"No I am not" chimed "Jane" All I wanted was a free meal and a good laugh. And I got both, so we are quit and you don't have to pay me for the lesson. There's the door, your hat is on your head, so you can leave."
She turned to her father, completely ignoring Darcy (a good thing, he presented a most unattractive sight. No hero should be caught goggling. Not even if he happens to be tall, dark, handsome and long-legged. Goggling just made Darcy look like a tall, dark, handsome halibut. (with long legs).
"What have you been doing all this time, Daddy? Surely it couldn't have been just mother who made you leave? Are you going to tell me you were a government spy? You have "007" emblazoned all over that turtleneck and beard!"
"No darling. I was needed for the final battle against you know who. And after that...well, I am teaching at Hogwarts."
Now it was our Heroine's turn to Goggle (indeed, she Goggled with a capital G. Her skill left Darcy's far behind.)
"Dad, I don't know how to ask, but have you...ummmm...been having headaches, recently?"
"I knew you wouldn't believe me," he sighed, took out a WAND, pointed at a cosmetics bag (purple and green of course), muttered something and it turned into colorful slugs. "See!"
{Author cuts to thirty minutes later. During the interval Liz and Darcy have both had enough cold water poured on them to somewhat recover (yes, Darcy's shirt is COMPLETELY wet, ladies". A story without D &D (drenched and dripping) Darcy wouldn't be legitimate after all}
"OK," thought Darcy.
"this was some wacky family. He needed to leave right now, if he knew what was good for him" he realized, and pulled an orange chair and sat down. "Being part of a cult was never so much fun."
"You really need to go back with me," exclaimed Mr. Bennet. "and I suppose your young man can come too." That was met with universal glares.
"To defeat Voldemort?" Asked Liz eagerly
"who?" asked Darcy blankly. Well, he meant to read Harry Potter but was so busy reading "The Dream Rose of Love" when HP came out he never got to it somehow. And after all, Viscount Eclair could probably beat a 1 4 year old any day. And HP had no love interest...
"you know" said Liz impatiently. "the super evil dude. The bad guy. The root of all evil in the universe. Squelches his enemy and all that."
Darcy goggled once more. (He better watch it or it will become a habit). He looked attractive even then. Attractive, tall, dark etc, etc.
"Sorry dad, he's just a bit slow" exclaimed Liz loosing patience and yelled straight into our hero's ear
"the guy that will turn you into something nasty if you come!"
Under these circumstances, what would a normal person do? What choice had our tall etc. etc. barrister but to decide to come immediately?
"All right," said Mr. Bennet and pulled out his wand.
"what I wouldn't do to use one of them" whispered Liz...
"a case of wand envy, perhaps?" inquired Darcy. Deciding that today was his day for Sarcasm. (he had after all finished with all the R words by now. And they didn't come out so well.)...
As Mr. Bennet lifted his wand, a purple and green vision erupted into the room. "I am home and I lost .23 of a pound too!," announced it brightly. No repelling charm was going to be strong to keep out Liddy Bennet.
Part V Posted on Wednesday, 18 October 2000
As the last cliff-hanging installment of our saga, we left our flabbergasted hero and heroine (and Mr. Bennet and his wand) all Petrified, Perplexed and Positively aPpalled (all right, all right, the authoress ran out of P words, mea culPa).
Liddy was not a person to require any breathing between words and a torrent of them poured on without stop:
"What are you doing holding to a stick, Liz? *exasperated look from addressee* And who is the tall, dark, handsome and long-legged gorgeous creature with you? *Patented Darcy Stare* And who's the old bloke?" *Impatient twitch of Wand*
A burst of purple light erupted from the wand, and in a second, Liz, Darcy (who has decided that mere Stare won't do and switched on a Penetrating Gaze), and Mr. Bennet were standing on a green lawn, in front of a quaint house, all creams and pastels (no spot of orange anywhere), that looked exactly like a cream and pastel colored teapot. Mr. Bennet's tastes in real estate were somewhat exotic.
"This is my house," he pointed with pride. "I built it myself using only the simplest "buildingus" charm. And I only have five house elves to help me with the work. Your old dad is a marvel, isn't he, Liz?"
He ushered them inside into the coziest looking kitchen you (or anyone else) can imagine. It was warm, sunny, friendly and if it knew how, would have probably purred like a cat. Odd little creature, house elves were boiling tea, making crumpets, slicing French toast and performing other tasks that looked most gratifying to our travellers.
Darcy took one look at all this and gave up trying to understand anything since his attempts to do so were only getting him more Stunned, Sorely-bemused, and Startled.
In any case, as long as Liz was there, he Supposed he could deal with teapot houses, elves, gnomes, brooms, stunningly handsome and tormented werewolves, sinister and sagacious wizards, and beautiful but heartless witches. And lots and lots of moaning wind and heather. (His knowledge of fairyland was mainly from "The Love Witch" by Passiona La Rue that came out last year. His parents neglected to read Brothers Grimm to him when he was little.)
In fact, maybe he could talk Liz to go for a heather walk later after they defeated Volmordert, or Veldemert or whatever the fellow's name was. As a divorce barrister he was too used to battle for it to hold much interest or fear for him.
His musing (or wishful thinking) was interrupted by the sight of a most beautiful woman he'd ever seen (remember, he hadn't seen Jane) appearing out of thin air in front of him.
Mr. Bennet beamed (he is not sarcastic in this incarnation. Fifteen years away from Mrs. Bennet the exclamation point, would do it is a man).
"This is Charlotte Collins, a neighbor. Charlotte my dear, it is kind of you to welcome us back!"
Charlotte smiled a perfect smile showing her perfect teeth.
"A pleasure," she said in a perfectly modulated voice.
A short, stout, silly man appeared a second later. He literally oozed oil out of his skin (a pimple-ridding charm gone wrong), causing his clothes to stick to him at odd places. But even that was not half as oily as his smile.
"And this is..." began Mr. Bennet but the Short, Stout, Silly and Slimy eye-Sore interrupted.
"No need to introduce me dear neighbor, no need. As a happy beneficiary of Lady Cathering de B'o'u'r'g'h's, I am sure my worth speaks for itself. I am MR Collins, and this is my wife Charlie. Isn't it right my pet?"
The Tall, Tantalizing and Tremendously-beautiful Vision by his side inclined her head at a perfect angle in acknowledgement.
Liz took one look into her eyes and was instantly filled with deepest pity.
Voldemort was shelved on the back burner. She was going to save this woman: she'd get rid of the Slimy Squib.
Part VI Posted on Thursday, 19 October 2000
As Liz, Darcy, Charlotte, the Squishy Slime and Mr. Bennet were having tea in the kitchen, Liz listened most carefully: to figure out how to destroy the enemy, one needed to know what he was thinking. Unfortunately, Slime was Totally, Truly and Tediously Trite. Any original thought he might have had once, a long time ago, would have been lost and helpless in the complete insipidity that constituted his brain.
"And who is Lady Catherine?" asked Liz
"She's a Squib" replied Mr. Bennet who did not seem to hold her in veneration. "Her parents were both wizards but she cannot do a drop of magic."
Mr. Collins bristled at that. He himself showed so much early promise and fulfilled it by graduating solidly and securely the last in his class. He himself did all his magic out of an old "Magic for Beginners" handbook for the last twenty years.
"She herself said she would have been a great proficient if she'd ever learnt!"
The conversation went downhill (a steep one) from there, since Mr. Collins was obviously taught to speak by a speech version of the hooked-on-phonics program.
LATER:
Mr. Bennet dreamt of crumpets and cream.
Charlotte dreamt of a handsome headwaiter at the posh "Broomsticks and Unicorns." Cole Fitzwilliam really smiled. And'd he'd look like he'd really listen. Not like the Wimp lying beside her. Her perfect eyelids closed on her perfect dreams.
Mr. Collins was worried about his Squibness. Not that he was going to let anyone in on the secret. Well, he knew he didn't have to worry for long. Voldemort was going to put it all to rights. he knew that.
Lying in a soft feathery bed, Liz's mind was filled with pleasant thoughts. Her attempt to trip Slimeball on the stairs, and to help him lean too much out of the window came off and she was acclaimed as a true Heroine by one and all. The only fly in the ointment was the long-legged barrister that was in bed next door. The unreliable, unmannerly, unbelievable...! She was going to teach him a lesson. What a pity that such a fine body was inhabited by such a feeble mind!
And as Darcy lay in bed this night, did his thoughts go to his abandoned practice? To his friend, still in the clutches of a harpy? To the fact that he was obviously in some dream world populated by complete Wand-Waving Wacos? By the so-beautiful Charlotte? By the coming apocalyptic battle?
No!
He was Tense, Tired, and Tragically-Without his "Tempestuous Torrents," a new and exciting paperback, but despite all these disadvantages, his mind was on Liz. He decided if he was ever to get out of this Topsy-Turveydom to ask her to be his...wife of course, what did you think, our Hero (I think he's earned the capital letter by now by his longings for our Heroine) was a strictly honorable man.
All he had to do now was to convince her to revise her mind as to the relative merits of (1) being married to him and (2) lying dead in a ditch. As things stood now, he rather thought she'd choose the ditch.
Next door, Liz Bennet had just arrived at the same conclusion.
Part VII Posted on Friday, 20 October 2000
In the morning, over a delicacy that Mr. Bennett referred to as "green-egg tarantula," and Liz and Darcy as "Ugh!" he finally outlined his mission.
Voldemort was finally and irrevocably dead. The final battle with Harry Potter took care of that. (Liz looked disappointed with the news. It's not easy, being an adventuress in our mundane world). However, the problem was that some of his followers were still around and causing plenty of mischief.
"But why us, Dad? Surely there are plenty of Aurors who do just that sort of thing. Neither of us can do magic worth a jot!"
"First of all, I only wanted you. He was an extra, an afterthought."
The afterthought glowered.
I just took him to make you happy, dear."
It was Dear's turn to glower.
"Second of all, you can't do magic, not as such. But it's been found via the Very-Valuable-and-Vital tests you have extra-sharpened perception of VF" (not Vanity Fair, Voldemort Followers). "A few non-witches have that ability" (for some obscure reason that the authoress doesn't have time to go into. I.e. she can't think of one! Shhhh!)
They were going to fly to the ministry today.
"Do we get to meet Harry Potter?" Asked Liz, excited.
Darcy? He glowered.
"I am afraid not today, my dear. He is off on some public relations mission in Slovania. A few vampires went on rampage, and he's trying to get the anti-vampire feeling to calm down: after all vampires export nearly 90% of all domestic blood produced annually."
Darcy sighed his relief. Little did he know.
Without much further ado, Mr. Bennett port keyed them all to the ministry. Using that Rawling woman as our Muggle contact was the best idea Cornelius Fudge ever had. Good thing his first idea about Danielle Steele came to nothing, he thought as they disappeared via an old sock.
The ministry was fascinating, and Liz could hardly keep her eyes of the various wizards and witches as they passed. However, the authoress will not offer you descriptions since she needs to move the story along (i.e. is not nearly vainglorious enough to compete with Ms. Rawling. Shhhhhhhh!)
Darcy was thinking that it did look like the Potter books, but that fact elicited no enthusiasms. He read the Potter books yesterday: it kept his mind off Liz. Mr. Bennett kindly provided them on his table, since those were the most Muggle accessible volumes about the wizarding world.
They proved that Liz was weird. Any girl that preferred those to the "Purple Rose of Passion" WAS weird. There were no beautiful languishing witches. There was a sagacious wizard, Albus Dumbledore, but he was not a bit sinister (and by far too old to menace a heroine). There was a single werewolf, but he was a teacher, not something romantic like a nameless prisoner, Lord of the Manor, or a hired assassin, and if he was getting any romance from that author any time soon, Darcy was going to eat Mr. Bennett's wand! He was simply reaffirmed in his belief that "The Love Spell," "The Witch of Hearts," and "Warlock Bride" were all superior to that kid stuff.
That musing took them to an important door. In a second they were inside, and Mr. Bennett was introducing Liz and Darcy.
"And these are: Cornelius Fudge, Ralph Garretty, Arabella Figg, Stanislaw Strelski-Perich and Mortimer Pett."
Darcy was relieved that the men in the group were rather elderly and had a married (i.e. hen-pecked) look about them. Liz was so into the whole wizard thing, you were better safe than sorry.
"And you know all about our last member, dear," added Mr. Bennett. "Sirius Black."
A tall, dark (and if not handsome and long-legged, than at least giving a good imitation of it) wizard turned from the window and smiled at Liz.
Liz's heart went "Whoooooooosh!" and she melted.
Darcy's heart went "thump." And he froze.
Since they were still waiting for Mandamus Fletcher, the conversation was general. Darcy watched helpless, as Liz unceremoniously left his side and was now talking to Sirius by the window.
As he watched, the man had the audacity to wave his wand and presented Liz with a beautiful daisy bouquet. It was Darcy's turn for an acute case of Wand envy. He would give up his hand for one look like the ones she was giving Sirius.
Only because he was in a book, too! I bet some female could write a book about me too, if she only knew about my existence. Something with a snazzy title. And I'd get to be the hero, too, unlike him, and it will be my turn to stare out of windows!"
However, that was dreams. In reality, now Darcy acutely felt his lack of hero status. He was a divorce barrister. Who read romance novels for his free time. The most romantic thing about him was his name.
He wasn't even in the same league with Sirius! Sirius was unjustly accused, used to be a nameless prisoner, escaped, helped to defeat an Evil Force, and knew Harry Potter. And he rode a motorcycle. An epitome of those Hideous, Horrendous, Half-witted, Half-baked Romance heroes in fact. (Darcy was so upset, even the order of alphabet got scrambled in that orderly head (i.e. the authoress cannot come up with any good "X" or "Y" words. Shhhh!).
Taking refuge in a Super-Glower, he felt his chances grow slim, and wished he'd practiced swashing and buckling more often.
Part VIII Posted on Tuesday, 24 October 2000
A man and a woman were entwined on a bed.
They were kissing. (They's have done more but the authoress is mindful of the PG standard).
They were alas, not Darcy and Liz (I won't let this story end early).
Neither were they luckily, Liz and Sirius.
And the authoress and Remus Lupin would find a more private place for their trysts than an cheap rickety bed in a Super-8 Motel.
"Bill, oh, Bill! You are incredible" sighed the woman...
JessLee needn't have worried for the man was not Bill Weasley.
"My love!!!! I am astounded by your beneficence, and deeply obligated to you for the favors," sighed back her partner, Bill "the Slimeball" Collins.
"It's not favors. It's love. When Voldemort is resurrected, you will be mine and we'll both lose our squibness and do our evil deeds in peace." She smiled. "Now kiss me again!"
Lady Catherine de B'o'u'r'g'h sank into the Slimeball's arms.
In another part of London, George Wickham was quite miserable.
He was quite a failure as a Quidditch player, brooded (brid?) he as he drowned his sorrows in butterbeer. The only record he held was "most times falling off broom" and it was due largely to him that the London Sticks lost their last three games with the score of 156-0, 187-0 and 234-0 in that order.
And with something like that, what witch in her right mind would want to date him? If he even asked one out, she'd laugh off her broom! He still trembled when he remembered what happened when he asked out Mary Crawford, the pretty Gringotts teller. "He's handsome enough, but not adroit enough to suit me. What if he trips over his feet during dinner?"
A Muggle was the only option. But where would one meet one? Someone not too brainy. But someone brainy enough to appreciate him (that let off most reasonable adults).
In his misery, he meandered right out of the Diagon Alley pub and bumped into somebody. A girl.
"'Scuse me" they both said simultaneously.
George stared. She was the woman of his dreams: she was so small and skinny she made even his 29 inch chest swell with manliness, and by her clothes she was a Muggle which meant she need never, EVER know about his flying skills (or lack thereof).
He surveyed the purple and green vision with awe in his eyes and picked up the Cosmopolitan she dropped.
"At your service, Miss."
Lydia Bennet giggled: "La, this is such a good joke!"
George Wickham, the world's worst Quidditch player, was in love.
So was William Darcy. (In case the reader is wondering, he was still in the ministry room, watching Liz with Sirius and turning a becoming shade of green.) Liz had accepted Sirius' offer of visit to Hogsmeade. It looked like any chance he had with Liz was gone. Lost by the arrival of that smug, insufferable Hell's Angel.
He thought life couldn't get any worse. He was wrong.
Part IX Posted on Wednesday, 1 November 2000
Darcy was glowering. The authoress knows that this is where we left off in the last installment, but she can't help it. He was still glowering.
The door opened once again and in walked another wizard. Thankfully, Liz was not going to be interested in him. His hair looked as if he borrowed Mr. Collins' hair oil, and his glower could outdo our Hero's. It was a Super-Glower. A wooden leg did provide him with a limp, which considered impartially, thought Darcy, could be thought romantic, but was really no competition against his, Darcy's, loooooong-legs.
He was introduced as Severus Snape, and Darcy felt even better. However Liz might feel about glamorous undercover spies (and he harbored the darkest suspicions), she was not going to like a man who insulted her Harry, (in addition to that hair oil. It wasn't likely that anything that reminded our heroine of Slimeball was going to meet with approval).
At the conclusion of the meeting, Liz was given her measuring instruments. She was supposed to have them in her pockets. Every time they would feel her emitting a certain kind of response they would send a transmission to the Ministry. Simple but effective.
Later in the day, they were going to finally see the famous Hogwarts. Also on the good side (at least from Darcy's point of view), Sirius had to leave on the Ministry business right afterwards with Mr. Bennet so it was up to him, Darcy, alone to escort Liz home.
They left the Ministry of Magic, not talking much. Liz was too happy and Darcy too glum. She was thinking about Sirius. He was too.
Before they could get to the magic transport provided (a magicked car that the authoress will not bother to describe because she doesn't know how, but don't tell anyone.)\),
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
CABAAAAAAANG!!!!!!!!
WROOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!
Black smoke materialized and four fully-grown men with oriental swords stepped out of it. In attack formation. Advancing.
It was exactly like "The Persian Kiss." by Loreena Laschelle...romantic, exotic, mysterious, a fair damsel in distress and HE, a man of the world, to protect her.
Darcy had been dreaming of something like this all his reading life, so he opened his mouth and rose to the occasion:
"Heeeeeelp!"
Part X Posted on Tuesday, 23 January 2001
Heeeeeelp! Screamed Darcy with all his might.
Unfortunately, nothing happened. The menacing men kept coming, and he had to act.
*Courtesy of my friend Julie who is a Tae-Kwan-Do expert:*
Chop-smak-hit-thomp-TWAAAAACK!!!!
He was not hitting any one, you understand (have to keep it clean for the kiddies) just making the noises.
The attack stopped unexpectedly, and he turned expecting to see Liz glow with admiration.
Unfortunately Liz was staring at him as if he was out of his mind. So did the attackers. They looked as if they considered him too unworthy to kill. Darcy fervently hoped that thought would hold.
While the Evil Ones were hesitating, plainly torn between amusement and well...amusement, Liz impatient with this turn of events decided to do some action on her own. Unfortunately, since her martial arts skills were, if possible, inferior to Darcy's, and pepper spray wasn't what she normally carried in a magical London, she could not think of what that action should be.
Now, while this tableau is exceedingly pretty: four Oriental swordsmen Amused, Darcy Annoyed (you guessed it, the authoress is starting the alphabet over, since she doesn't remember which letter was in last installment), and Liz Annoyed too (at last! They are on the same wavelength), it is rather non-moving and does not progress the story in the slightest. We need a Deus Ex Machina...
she could not think of what that action should be.
Suddenly, another whirlwind materialized. A small one this time. Out of it stepped a young haughty (no, make it HAUGHTY) blond man. He would have been curling his lip if he didn't think it beneath him to do so.
"You are imbeciles" pronounced he in the most annoying drawl Darcy had ever heard. "You can't even perform such a simple task?"
Liz swelled up with indignation (well, she did mentally. Outwardly she was still the size ____ (insert your own number here) that any heroine should be). "US??????"
"I was talking to my swordsmen," replied the Snooty One. "But if the label fits..."
And taking advantage of indignation rendering Liz temporarily silent continued to tick off his swordsmen's faults on his fingers, while Darcy contemplated why every one in this story was allowed to make sarcastic comments except him.
The stranger finally stopped. He had ran out of fingers.
Then his eyes fell on the necklace on Liz' chest. It was given to her by the ministry as one of the sensors.
He bowed, his eyes lighting up with an odd gleam.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Muggles. Draco Malfoy. I see I saved the life of the Ministry's greatest hope. I am so sorry."
A snap of his fingers and he was gone, his swordsmen with him.
Well, at least there wasn't any danger of Liz falling for that one thought Darcy.
Part XI Posted on Wednesday, 24 January 2001
"What do you think of that?!" indignantly exclaimed Liz as they ingloriously vended their way homeward.
"Hey, why aren't you responding?"
"Because you asked that question 234 times already. I counted." Responded the long-legged Annoyance at her side
"Malfoy. Not only did I have to meet him, but he also made fun of me! After his swordsmen tried to make mincemeat of us...argh!"
"And I bet those swordsmen don't even get union wages," couldn't resist Darcy.
Liz glared. Then a thought dawned. Well, actually it had to do more than dawn, it had to beat its way through since it was so alien to the rest of her brain. Was the pompous one actually trying to make a joke??? Hmmmmmmmm
She saw him fail to repress a grin, and startled realized she was grinning back.
Wickham and Liddy were ensconced into orange chairs of "Lizard Queen." He asked her out for a drink, and joy-of-joys: she consented. (Liddy would have probably consented to a mutated midget if he'd asked her, but Wickham did not know that).
He reveled in her ignorance. Every word that she said was a balm to him. In fact by the end of the walk he felt so confident she wouldn't recognize magic if it hit her on the nose and turned it into a turnip, he decided to take her to "Lizard Queen" instead of any Muggles bars. After all the music was equally loud, the food just as obnoxious and the decor as tasteless (in other words just their cup of tea). And here, wizards could see that he'd got a girl at last.
So here they've been for the past hour, talking (occasionally even using multi-syllables), playing footsie, feeding each other and generally making the few other patrons wish they'd stayed at home.
In a dark dungeon (where else) Draco Malfoy (who else) was talking to a cat. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your perspective) he was not in line for a posh padded cell, for in a minute or two, the cat (a sleek, dark, long-tailed specimen) turned into a dark haired, sleek, (but de-tailed) woman. In another minute, the youngest Malfoy was very, very occupied (for as everyone knows cats do not wear clothes). Kitty Ten-Leaf was being appreciated at last
Love is in the air...mmmm...Love is in the air...Liz and Darcy actually SMILE at each other, Liddy and Wickie share a brain (or approximation thereof), and even Malfoy (who must have some ODD tastes) gave up being the Lone ranger of Evil for a few minutes to engage in an agreeable interlude. The author must be getting senile....Beware! there is more to come!
Liz and Darcy have been arguing for the last half-hour. But then, when did they do anything else? Our hero was trying to convince the heroine that despite excessive hair oil and unfortunate genome, Mr. Collins the Super Squib, shouldn't have to wake up by
a. hot lead being poured on him
b. a tarantula in his bed
"Ha!" and "Why not?" was all the reply he was getting. Our Liz could out stubborn any mule. (No heroine is perfect, after all).
"You are not arguing logically" he pointed out, to get
"Ha!" and "Why not?" for his trouble.
She was so Awfully Argumentative, Annoying ...and Alluring stop that. Mustn't go there. Mustn't mustn't mustn't
But Liz noticed THE LOOK.
It was rather odd he liked her, thought Liz. After all she gave him no cause. He looked so earnest, arguing with her. That serious look in his eyes... Suddenly she wanted to make him smile- he smiled so rarely. Stop that. Mustn't go there. Mustn't.
"Mustn't" they said that out loud, in unison.
"Did you say anything?" asked Liz.
Darcy grinned like a guilty schoolboy and suddenly, without any advance warning, Liz leaned in and kissed him.
"W-w-w-w-w?" stammered Darcy.
"Stop arguing!" Liz grinned. "What does it look like? I am kissing you!"
And she leaned back in...