Buffy Crossover Fic: An American Slayer in Northern England Part Four
Disclaimer etc. in Part One
Notes: The rating has gone up in this next part to a hard R/ NC-17. Just so you’re warned. I’ve also put a warning in before things get really hem, gory.
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Buffy asked Hermione about places she could teach fighting in. The prefect didn’t even have to think about it as she replied, “The Room of Requirement.”
“The what?” asked Buffy.
Ron had come up behind them and said, “It’s this room that becomes whatever you need it to be when you go in.” He grinned, enjoying being one of the people in the know for a change, and added, “My older brothers Fred and George needed a hiding spot once, and when they went in it was just a broom closet. But when we needed a DADA classroom for Harry to teach defense in it became the perfect dark arts classroom.”
Pursing her lips a little, Buffy had to admit that was impressive. “So we can check that out this evening.” It was agreed, but Harry, Ron and Hermione all insisted that they use Harry’s invisibility cloak. “I have just one thing to say,” Buffy muttered as they made their way down the hall, “If I feel anyone’s hands in any bad places, that person loses a hand.”
“Absolutely,” Ginny said and smacked a hand travelling too low for her comfort. There was a muffled exclamation from Harry.
They were trotting down the hall when a light appeared under the door of the great hall and caught the students’ attention. “What’s going on in there?” Buffy asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Harry, “Hermione?”
“I don’t know either,” she replied.
Ron sounded resigned to his fate as he asked, “Are we going in?”
Harry’s grin was completely audible. “Of course.”
“Of course,” murmured his three henchmen. Then they turned around and made their way to the door. “Is there some way we could go in without using highly visible portal sized doors?” Buffy inquired. The others shushed her and pulled her to the statue on the right side of the door and tapped lightly on its shield muttering something. It promptly swung open revealing a passage. They crept inside and followed it until they reached a door that opened behind one of the hall’s tapestries.
Hagrid’s voice was the first thing they heard. “I found ‘im in th’ forest,” he was saying. “’E attacked me an’ then tried ta run.”
“But what is he?” asked McGonagall.
Snape sounded strained as he said, “More to the point, what did this to him?”
Dumbledore looked very serious as they managed to get into a position to see the action. “You think this was caused by Voldemort?” he asked the potions professor, ignoring the gasps of the others. Under the cloak Buffy and Harry shared rolled eyes at the response then refocused on the discussion.
“You know I do,” replied Snape. “Unfortunately I don’t think there is anything we can do for him.”
Madam Pomfrey spoke up then. “I have to say I agree with Severus. There does not appear to be a single thing I could do to assist him even if I could get close enough.” She demonstrated her point by stepping in the direction of a cage on the floor. The students were in a very bad position behind the table and couldn’t see inside. But when Pomfrey stepped up to the bars, they heard a loud snarl and the whole cage shook as though something inside had thrown itself violently against the walls of its prison. Buffy looked at Harry and inclined her head to the left. He frowned, then followed that direction down the darkened length of the hall to the shifting shadows at the far end of the hall.
She gestured again with her head and Harry understood. She was going to make her way along without the cloak separately from the others to get a better look. He nodded back again and Buffy pulled up the cloak and vanished into the dark instantly. “Hey!” hissed Ron softly.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Harry.
Hermione’s glare could be felt even though Harry’s back was turned. “Why not? Where’s she gone?”
“She getting a better look,” Harry whispered back.
“She’ll get caught,” objected Ginny.
“Can you see her?” he asked and pointed the direction Buffy went. The others had to admit that the moment she’d left the protection of the cloak she had disappeared into the shadows as though she were one of them. They turned their attention back to the conversation between the teachers.
“-Hate to do this,” Dumbledore said, “But it seems the only thing we can do.” They saw the professors raising their wands to cast a fatal spell on whatever was trapped in the cage.
Buffy had quietly circled her way around the room until she was in a position to see what was in the cage. As she reached a place in the shadows, half hidden by the tables she looked at the pale, shivering thing in the cage. It looked from that angle as though it might have been human and Buffy felt sympathy for it. Of course it might be a vampire but there was something familiar about him. As the professors raised their wands, about to kill him, he shifted and Buffy saw a tattoo on his right shoulder of a Gryphon straddling a letter ‘A’. “NO!”
She ran forward, covering the distance between them in a blur and threw herself in front of the cage. She reached a trembling arm through the bars toward her boyfriend. He snarled and was about to throw himself at her when he paused. His head tilted and he sniffed the air. Their eyes locked and he crept over to her to sniff her hand. Recognition dawned on his face and Buffy gently caressed his face. Angel leaned into her hand looking blissful. The moment was over when Snape demanded, “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?”
Immediately Angel jerked away from Buffy and growled at the man. Buffy ignored him and moved to open the cage door. “What are you doing?” Professor McGonagall demanded as she grabbed Buffy and pulled her away. Angel’s reaction was immediate. He began to hurl himself against the sides of the cage in a desperate effort to reach his mate.
“I was letting my boyfriend out of that cage,” Buffy replied, annoyed. “What the hell happened to him?” she demanded as she returned to Angel’s side. He calmed down when she cuddled him through the bars.
Hagrid spoke up, “’E was like this when I found ‘im.” He shrugged and continued. “Tried to attack some o’ the creatures as lives in the woods.”
“Well he isn’t going to attack anyone unless you upset him,” Buffy said with a sidelong look at the silent teachers, several of whom still looked ready to hex Angel at a moment’s notice. Then she reached over and tapped the lock with her wand. “Alohamora,” she said briskly. The door swung open and Angel cautiously stepped out a moment later and immediately glued himself to her side, nuzzling her hair. There was a lengthy pause during which everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to make a move and even Dumbledore appeared uncertain.
After five minutes of standoff Buffy sighed and simply led Angel off in the direction of the Room of Requirement figuring it would give her whatever she needed to take care of Angel until he was back to normal. “Miss Summers!” called Snape.
“Yes?”
“Where are you taking the . . . your . . . er him?” he asked her.
Buffy shrugged. “I thought the Room of Requirement would probably be best. I really don’t think you have the facilities needed for him elsewhere.”
Snape nodded approvingly as she competently herded Angel out of the hall and McGonagall stuttered at her impudence. She turned to the Slytherin House leader demanding, “How can you possibly approve?”
He rolled his eyes. “She’s competent which is really more than can be said for Potter or that Weasley boy and Granger simply hasn’t that sort of self-possession.” He smiled. “I appreciate competence.”
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Angel followed the small blonde out of the hall and away from the people in robes with the wood sticks that he knew could cause pain. One of the robed people in particular had smelled like the ones who had hurt him before and he was glad to escape. He stepped in close to the blonde female and happily sniffed her again. She smelled like safety and home and other things that made his whole body tingle in anticipation. Suddenly he frowned as another scent reached his nose. Woven in among the myriad aromas that made up the essence that was unique to her were traces of four other people. Two of those people were male and Angel did not like that at all.
“Angel!” she hissed as he pulled her to a stop and began to examine her in earnest. There had been two males in close contact with his mate and Angel became even more irritated when the people the four scents came from suddenly appeared in the hallway with them. He growled and prepared to kill these interlopers. A stinging pain brought him to a halt as Buffy smacked him and said, “Angel, they’re my friends. Stay.” The words meant nothing but the tone of voice and the fact that a few words from her sent them trotting off reassured Angel that he did not need to battle for his mate. A couple minutes later he was being pulled into a spacious room with large windows covered in iron bars and heavy red velvet curtains. The floors and walls were covered in golden sienna padding, the carpets and tapestries in warm reds and browns. A large mattress covered with sheets, cushions, pillows and blankets of crimson satin and silk glowed in the corner, a chest-of-drawers and wardrobe made of black oak and shelves of heavy leather-bound books finished the room. A door on the opposite side of the room opened onto a lovely tiled washroom complete with a separate shower stall, bathtub with heated massaging water jets and a full array of male toiletries, towels, washcloths and anything else that could possibly be needed.
Buffy watched as Angel explored the room, examining the closets full of silk, satin, velvet and leather clothing as well as the less flashy cotton jeans and t-shirts, staring in bafflement at the washroom facilities and finally coming to rest on the mattress with an expectant air. She slowly approached him, intending to get him to take a shower or a bath. He abruptly lunged forward and pulled her down beside him onto the bed and began eagerly nuzzling at her and growling irritably when he couldn’t find out how to get her clothes out of his way. Then he realised that the rags he still wore after all the torment he’d undergone were also constricting his movements and he tore at them until they gave way. Angel discovered that his little blonde had vanished into the other room and he followed her in, anxious.
Buffy waited in the washroom as the tub filled with water. Angel’s eagerness wasn’t lost on her and she took several breaths to calm herself as she rapidly peeled off her clothes, knowing that any bath with Angel at the moment was going to get her soaked. He appeared in the doorway and his eyes lit up when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything. Buffy dodged his hands and stepped into the tub. Angel gamely followed her in and hissed when the warm water made the scratches on his legs sting. Buffy was sitting so Angel sat as well and reached for her. He growled again in irritation when she evaded him, then began to purr when her hands began to massage soap onto his shoulders. It felt so good Angel let his eyes slide closed at the pleasant sensations her hands evoked.
After a thorough soaping, rinsing, shampoo and another rinse, Angel was tense again after his repeated attempts to touch and taste his mate were frustrated by how slippery the soapy water made her. Finally however, as she reached to put the shampoo away, he managed to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He rubbed his erection against her and smelled the sweet scent of her skin and the traces of lavender perfume she wore. He sighed happily and nipped at her neck, hearing her breath speed up with his caresses. It was heaven after the horror of the days of torment from before. Although he was aware there was something missing between them, it paled to insignificance before the perfection of the moment.
ENTERING ADULT MATERIAL NOW look for the ~~~~~ to indicate the end of the um . . . stuff.
Suitably startled when her mouth pressed against his, Angel sat still before another memory surfaced. Then he returned her kiss with fervour and slipped his tongue past her lips to tease and taste her. Sometime during the proceedings she had shifted her position on his lap to straddle his legs and Angel discovered his erection was now pressed against her hot, slippery centre. They rocked together for a moment before Buffy broke away, gasping. “Angel,” she sighed, pressing her forehead to his. She looked into his eyes and saw all the love and worship she had come to associate with her vampire boyfriend and she felt her apprehension melt away. He was still there, just buried deep beneath whatever tortures he had suffered.
With that reassurance she grasped his manhood and squeezed, enjoying the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Then he grabbed her hips and twisted, sliding easily into her. Buffy tensed as pain raced along her nerve endings and her hands moved to clamp onto the sides of the tub. After a few thrusts Angel seemed to realise something was wrong and stopped, whining and nuzzling her to try and determine what had made her upset. His head moving frantically, Angel tried to comfort her even though he had no idea what had happened.
Finally the pain subsided and Buffy became aware of the more pleasurable feelings emanating from where their bodies were joined. Experimentally she shifted her hips and felt a very enjoyable sensation ripple through her. Underneath her Angel hissed and grabbed her hips to stop her, but Buffy gently ground against him again and smiled at her lover encouragingly. He got the message that she was better now and resumed thrusting into her. They bucked together sloshing water all over the floor until suddenly Buffy felt a cool rush inside her and Angel relaxed his chest heaving with unnecessary breath. Buffy whimpered feeling distinctly let down by the ending, and more so as he softened inside her.
She bit her lip and slid a hand down to finish the job. Angel looked on curiously, his eyes widening as she began to moan and rock against her hand. Buffy was startled when his hand joined hers, but she was too far gone to care at that point. “Please,” she whispered. Then his fingers, longer and thicker than hers, found their way into her vagina and Buffy threw her head back panting and saying his name. Between the two of them they worked her to orgasm.
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She collapsed onto his chest and rested for a couple minutes before urging him out of the tub. Unwilling to comply since he was quite comfortable where he was, Angel resisted and tugged Buffy back in several times before she finally just eluded his hands and dried off hoping that he would follow her out of the bathroom. She was waiting on the bed with several towels when Angel grouchily emerged and made a beeline for her. Buffy stopped him from climbing onto the bed and firmly dried him off before tugging him into bed and turned the lights off with a word. They fell asleep curled together under the covers.
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Hermione carefully poked her head into the Room of Requirement. She was momentarily taken aback by the chains hanging from the padded walls of an otherwise lovely room, but she took it in stride based on Angel’s reaction to everyone but Buffy the night before. A moment later she squeaked in surprise as she realised that the entwined figures on the bed were clearly wearing nothing under the covers, and that Angel was staring at her with interest as he began to climb out of the bed. Hermione suddenly realised she was about to get an eyeful she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted when Buffy reached out and tugged Angel back under the covers. Angel had begun to growl as Buffy sleepily said, “Morning.”
Blinking in utter bemusement and some fear Hermione replied, “Good morning Buffy. I had to ask, are you coming to classes today?” She flushed as she thought of how that might sound to the blonde.
“I don’t think I can leave him,” replied Buffy. She sighed and pushed Angel back down again. He did not look pleased at being squelched and Hermione edged slightly toward the door. Buffy frowned at her, currently, bestial boyfriend and added, “Could you bring me my assignments and notes from class until I can leave him?”
That drew a small smile from the witch. Harry and Ron would never have asked such a thing. “Of course. I’ll take in your homework as well.” Angel had apparently decided that Hermione was no threat because he had started to nuzzle Buffy’s neck. Hermione flushed bright red and added in a rush, “We’ll drop by with your things this afternoon.” At that she scurried out the door and faced the three waiting outside for her.
“Well?” Harry asked impatiently. Then he noticed her blush. “Are you all right Herm?”
She just shook herself and said, “I have never been so embarrassed in my life.” Then she hurried off refusing to answer any of their questions.
Hermione handed Buffy’s work in and collected the homework assignments and notes Buffy would need. When she reached potions however, Hermione felt some trepidation as she walked up to Snape. Before she could say anything he turned around and asked, “Is that Miss Summer’s homework?”
“Yes.” Proud that her voice hadn’t trembled, Hermoine handed the parchment over to the teacher who simply placed it on the desk before turning back to her. “Is there any-“
Snape didn’t let her finish. “You may tell Miss Summers that she may make up her class work as soon as she is able.” Suddenly his professional facade dropped away and Hermione was faced with the unusual sight of Professor Snape looked deeply concerned about the welfare of one of his Gryffindor students. “How is Miss Summers coping with her . . . old friend?” he asked.
“Er . . . She seems to be alright professor,” replied the dumbfounded student.
Not seeming to notice her shock Snape continued. “Good. If she needs anything at all she may come to me.” Then he turned to the class at large and sneered at Harry. “Good day to you Mr. Potter. Shall we see how well you all manage without Miss Summers to assist?” He then proceeded to teach a lesson the way he always did, by finding any way possible to take points away from Gryffindor and, most importantly apparently, to harass Harry in any way possible.
After dinner Hermione made her way to the Room of Requirement to see how Buffy was doing and give her the homework, assignments and notes for the day. When she walked in Buffy was reading to Angel as he lay with his head in her lap. He was purring and Hermione was reminded of a large cat of some kind, like a panther or a tiger. He glanced up at her for a moment, then recognised her and settled back down. As she handed over the homework assignments to Buffy, the Slayer stopped reading and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “How did everyone take my being missing?”
“Easily enough I suppose,” Hermione replied and sat down across from the pair on the mattress. She glanced around noticing the room was a complete wreck as compared to that morning with the cushions and books scattered everywhere. “Although I still have to wonder what hold you have over Snape that he seems completely alright with your absence.”
Shrugging, Buffy lifted her hands up in the universal sign of ‘I dunno’. “I have no idea really,” she told the other witch. “I mean, maybe it’s ‘cause I challenge him instead of giving in and worrying about my grades all the time.” She snorted. “After all, if you don’t really care too much about your marks beyond not doing really badly, like I do . . . don’t . . . uh . . . you know what I mean.” Buffy trailed off in mild confusion.
“Ron and Harry don’t seem to particularly care either,” responded Hermione with a slight frown.
A sigh escaped Buffy. “Well yeah, but Harry’s factor is that Snape hates him for some reason that has nothing to do with schoolwork, school or anything Harry’s done, and Ron is Harry’s friend.”
“Which is enough to prejudice Snape without Ron and Harry’s ever doing anything at all in class good or bad,” Hermione finished the thought and sighed herself. She glanced at Angel who was starting to appear a little bit restless and asked, “Any particular reason you were reading to him just now?”
“Hunh? Oh!” The blonde smiled sappily down at the handsome man next to her. “I noticed that my voice calms him down and stuff, but I’m also hoping that reading to him will help his memory come back.” She slid a hand into Angel’s hair and began to stroke gently. He surprised both girls by speaking.
“Read . . .” There was a pause as he searched his memory for the next word, none when he spoke her name. “More? Buffy?” His voice seemed to be hoarse from overuse followed by prolonged disuse
Her eyes misted over slightly as Buffy replied, “Sure Angel. But I’d like to introduce you to my friend.” She gestured Hermione closer. “This is Hermione Angel.” The vast improvement over the previous day was clear and Hermione was more than happy to provide this next step.
“Pleased to meet you,” said the witch and she smiled at him. Angel looked her up and down for a moment, frowning. Then he smiled back. Although he didn’t say anything Hermione got the distinct impression that he had both acknowledged and understood the introduction. A moment later he sent a pleading look to Buffy who grinned again and acquiesced, continuing in the book she had been reading. Hermione stayed for a couple minutes, keeping the pair company, then left to update Ron, Harry and Ginny on the situation and get her homework and studying done. As she left Hermione heard Buffy begin another poem.
//Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing.// (Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Sonnets From the Portuguese III)
She hurried away to Gryffindor tower where the other three were waiting for news.
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The week crawled by ever so slowly for the Gryffindors, their teachers and the Slayer and her vampire. Buffy’s only visitor was Hermione, bringing her the days assignments, notes, readings and gossip. Angel didn’t speak again, causing Buffy’s concern to rise a couple notches from where it had fallen. Refusal to talk only meant that he was more damaged, emotionally or physically, than she had thought after his request that she read more. Having tried everything she could think of to get a response from her boyfriend the Slayer was at her wits’ end. She had spoken to him of their time together in Sunnydale, everything from his past that she knew, stories and gossip about her Slayerettes, the wizarding world, Hogwarts, Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived and his friends, her schoolwork, she read Hermione’s notes, her textbooks, assignments, the collection of books in the room, a loaned copy of “Quidditch Through the Ages” and poked, prodded and harassed him.
None of it did any good. He was affectionate, devoted, anxious when she left the room and frequently hyperactive. It was like living with someone who had been possessed by the spirit of an animal like Xander was in grade ten. Only instead of being like a mad hyena Angel was like an extremely affectionate, if slightly afraid of abandonment, dog. One of those big dogs that think they’re actually the size of a scotty. Not once did he speak another word.
Daily visits from Hermione were Buffy’s only connection to the rest of the world. While she would update Hermione, and therefore Ron, Harry and Ginny as well, Hermione would tell her about class, their assignments, help her with the practical work and give her the day’s news and fresh changes of clothes. By the end of the week both girls were very worried about Angel, Buffy wondering how long it would take him to recover, Hermione wondering if he would recover at all. That afternoon, following her usual visit to see the couple the brown-haired witch arrived back at the Gryffindor common room to the expectant looks of her friends.
“Anything?” Harry asked.
Shaking her head, Hermione replied, “Nothing. I just wish there were some way to reach him. Not to mention that Buffy deserves a break. After all, there’s only so much she can do about her grades if she can’t do the practicals.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron retorted, “Oh yeah. Great reason to take a break ‘Mione, school. Fantastic break.”
“A change is as good as a rest you know,” replied the witch with a superior sniff.
As her brother drew breath to retort, Ginny cut him off in an attempt to put off the inevitable fight between him and Hermione. “Be that as it may, we still need to figure out how to help her and Angel. Maybe if he saw some new faces-“ she began.
“No!”
“Absolutely not.” Harry and Ron spoke at the same time. It was a week old argument dating back to the first time the idea had come up right after Buffy and Angel’s seclusion.
“He attacked me ‘n Harry and there’s no telling what he’d do to you.” Ron stated firmly. “I, for one, am not going to get attacked by a snarling nutcase with fangs.” With an emphatic nod he glared at his sister. Harry’s response was a slightly less patronising pleading look and determined nod, but he agreed nonetheless.
Hermione’s response was also part of this now well-choreographed routine. “So it’s alright for me to face off with ‘a snarling nutcase with fangs’?” she inquired. “One who, might I add, is the much beloved boyfriend of a friend of ours?”
Ron stuttered. “Well . . . see . . . it’s . . . you’re . . . er . . . different,” he managed.
“How?” demanded Ginny.
Now it was Harry’s turn. “Look. I’ll go tomorrow and-“
“No!” the other three shouted at him. He looked hurt.
Sighing, Hermione rose to the occasion as the Voice of Logic once more. “Harry. Angel attacked you and Ron that day in the hall. That’s why you two haven’t been going. We don’t know what set him off, and until we do there is no way we can risk sending you in.” Hermione responded to the obvious objection her friend was about to make. “It’s not that anyone thinks you’re a coward or anything else like that Harry,” she said firmly, “It’s just that there’s no reason to go rushing headlong into danger right now.”
“Which still leaves why I’m not allowed to go,” Ginny mentioned.
Ron exploded, “’Cause he just sorta sniffed the air and then launched himself at me and Harry that day and he might’ve been coming for you next!”
“Hermione-“ Ginny started, but she was cut off by the aforementioned witch’s wide-eyed look of concentration. An expression very familiar to those involved in the conversation, it signified that she was having one of her impressively frequent moments of intellectual epiphany.
“Sniff. That’s it!” she shouted suddenly. “Ron, you’re a genius!”
“He is?”
“What?”
“Eh?”
“Don’t you see?” Hermione demanded.
Ron actually replied to the rhetorical question. “No.”
She shot him an irritated glare. “Buffy told us that the demonic vampires have a very enhanced sense of smell. Angel is currently working with a very primitive mindset. Animalistic even. He no doubt identified her partly by her scent and probably considers her his mate.” Her boyfriend opened his mouth again, but Ginny beat him to it and cast a silencing spell on him. Hermione spared her a grateful smile. “Because of his state of mind, when he saw you two he must have also smelled Buffy’s scent on you and believed you to be a threat to his claim on his mate.”
Ginny smiled happily at her friend. “Y’know what that means?” she asked her brother and boyfriend triumphantly. “That means there’s no reason for me not to spend time with Buffy and Angel.”
Predictably Ron freaked. “What do you mean ‘spend time with Buffy and Angel’!” he squawked.
“By ‘spend time with Buffy and Angel’ I mean to be in the same immediate area as Buffy and Angel, for a significant amount of time for the purposes of providing companionship,” replied his sister with some asperity.
“But . . . but . . .” Ron sputtered.
“You sound like an outboard motor Ron,” Hermione told him with a grin. He glared at her.
Harry in the meantime had pulled Ginny slightly to the side. “Are you sure?” he asked. She was about to snap at him for being overprotective, but the concerned look in his deep green eyes made her pause before yelling at him and his next words dissolved her anger even further. “I’m not trying to be overprotective but I don’t want you going into a dangerous situation when you don’t have to. Rescue missions are one thing but you don’t *have* to do this,” he told her.
She sighed. It wasn’t the most eloquent explanation but she understood. More than that, she heard the other unspoken message that, if anything happened he would go to her and the others for help. He was just being Harry. “Yes I’m sure. And I do *have* to do this. Buffy needs to do her schoolwork and maybe if Angel interacts with more people he’ll start talking again and stuff.”
Ron was now muffled firmly by several well-cast hexes by Hermione and could only fume as Harry said, “Fine. But promise me you’ll run like hell for help if ‘stuff’ becomes dangerous.”
An eyeroll followed. “Yes dad.”
When a wicked smirk crossed Harry’s face, Hermione petrified her boyfriend and quickly hauled him away hearing, “Now Ginny, I don’t think you should mistake me for your father,” followed by a surprised squeak before the protrait swung shut behind them.
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Saturday morning Hermione and Ginny took their first shift alone with Angel while Buffy went to make up the practical work from the classes she’d missed. Angel came wandering into the room after a half an hour looking concerned and slightly confused and becoming a little alarmed when he didn’t locate Buffy. Finally turning to the two girls he asked, “Where is Buffy?”
“She had to go out for a while,” Hermione told him in a soothing voice. Inwardly delighted at this evidence that he wasn’t a lost cause she added, “Buffy has to make up some work for her classes.”
The response was slightly less encouraging. “Where is Buffy?” He didn’t seem to understand the words just spoken to him. Indeed neither of the girls could be entirely certain he would understand anything they said. Ginny tried to simplify the concept.
“Buffy will be back soon. She’s fine. We’re just here until she comes back.” He frowned, seemingly processing her words for several seconds until he abruptly nodded decisively and gracefully sprawled out onto the chesterfield.
Silently the girls stared at each other, wondering what to do next. The problem was solved by Angel looking at them curiously then asking hesitantly, “You . . . have . . . been . . .” he paused, frowning.
An encouraging smile crossed Hermione’s lips. “Yes?” she prodded gently.
“We . . .” exasperation covered Angel’s face and it was evident his lessened vocabulary bothered him. Something seemed to occur to him and it came out normally. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked Ginny. She looked slightly startled at his reversion to fairly standard English for a moment before responding with a slightly wry smile.
“The first night you were here,” she replied. “You attacked Ron and Harry. I don’t think you were really aware of what you were doing.”
For a long couple moments the girls wondered if this relatively abstract collection of concepts was too complicated for Angel’s currently malfunctioning mind, but after the pause he nodded in understanding before frowning again. “Harry and Ron.” Again he paused. “One is like . . .” he trailed off again, searching for the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
Hermione came to his rescue. “Boys,” she stated. “One with hair like,” she reached over and gently tugged on Ginny’s bright locks, “Ginny’s, that’s Ron. The other has black hair. Harry.” They looked at Angel expectantly.
He tilted his head a little. “Ron,” he said. “He’s your . . .”
“Brother,” Ginny supplied. “Hermione and him are together and Harry and me are together.” She paused, unsure if her meaning would be fully clear to the vampire. In spite of his attention, neither could help but feel that until he was speaking normally, they couldn’t trust that he would fully comprehend the conversation around him. A sudden inspiration had her add for clarification, “Like you and Buffy.”
As Angel’s eyebrow rose in a look of sceptical interest, Ginny and Hermione wondered if there had been a miscommunication of some kind. Then he leaned forward and his nostrils flared as he took a delicate sniff. “Not exactly like,” he replied, a small but breathtakingly sexy smile flitting across his face.
Flushing Ginny muttered, “No, not exactly like *that*.” While Hermione looked confused. She shot a questioning look at Ginny who refused to meet her eye. A smirk from Angel followed by a very pointed look tracing the area around her hips had Hermione letting out a startled “Oh!” followed by a blush that outdid Ginny’s.
The conversation that followed was somewhat stilted, frequently stalled and was slow in the extreme. However the difference between Angel’s previous state and his current one was made obvious by Buffy’s squeals of delight at her boyfriend’s improvement when she returned from her makeup tests and classes. The other two girls smiled at each other and left.
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While Hermione and Ginny were having a stilted chat with Angel in the Room of Requirement, Buffy was taking her makeup tests and practicals. Transfiguration was first and that went fairly smoothly although Buffy’s time away from the classroom had affected her skills slightly and the lack of practice showed. In potions however, she simply plonked down and mixed away. Snape sat at the front of the classroom sometimes glancing up at her as he pretended to read a text on the qualities of Far Eastern herbs and the substitutions possible with Western ones.
Finally Buffy was in the last stages of her assigned potion, an elixir designed to temporarily improve the user’s memory. It had to be left to simmer for several minutes before the last ingredients were added. Passing the time until she could wrap up her work by flipping through her text in search of a good potion to use on the ice demon she’d run across on her way down to the dungeons, Buffy was startled out of her ruminations (explode the demon or go for the more conventional melting option?). Snape had abruptly slammed the book he was pretending to read shut and had asked, “Miss Summers. I was wondering about the state of your . . . ah . . .” he trailed off uncertainly.
“Angel is much better,” she told him with a small smile. “He hasn’t started talking again really, but he’s better.”
It was with a great deal of hesitancy that he asked his next question. “Have you any notion of what changed him?” he inquired.
She sighed. “I wish I knew. He’s not talking so I can’t find out that way and the only magical evidence of what was done are some small traces that might be the cruciatus.” A shrug and an expression that was both sad and exasperated crossed her face.
“But even transfigurative spells leave significant traces and given the alterations to his physiology-“ Snape was cut off by Buffy’s laughter. At his irritated glare she controlled herself and explained.
“Angel wasn’t human to begin with. The physiological differences between himself and a regular human are because he isn’t one.” The teacher’s expression immediately cleared, then it turned thoughtful as he considered the repercussions of her statement. He was also extremely relieved to discover that there would not be an army of crazed mutated former wizards running around under Voldemort’s control. That is, at least Angel wasn’t the forerunner to such an invasion.
Another couple minutes passed during which Buffy reached the conclusion that it had been far too long since she had last gotten to blow anything up and so she was going to explode the ice demon. Then she was going to add some of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Quick Swamp Mix to the leftover puddle and see how the Hufflepuffs handled getting out of their common room.
Clarifying, Snape asked, “So . . . Angel . . . is somewhat like a veela in the sense that he has two forms, one which is more human and one that is less?” He raised an eyebrow, noting that her book was open to a potion formula that was particularly explosive. He also noted that she bookmarked the page with a slip of paper that read ‘Hufflepuffs’. He decided not to ask. The little fluffballs deserved whatever they got.
“Mmm. A little. In that way. He really only gets with the ridges and fangs and things when he’s really upset.” She grinned at her teacher. “All of his seductive abilities are completely unrelated to magic.” He did not deign to respond to that and there were several minutes of silence as Buffy made various adjustments to her potion and settled down for the last bit of brewing. Some minutes had passed before she turned to Snape and asked a question that had been bothering her for some time. “Why exactly is it that you hate Harry so much? I know you hate Gryffindors on principle and I don’t blame you. We seem to be a fairly irritating bunch, but you really take it all out on Harry.”
Snarling slightly the teacher responded, “It is his unmitigated arrogance and gall. The way he is constantly talking back to me acts without a thought in his head for anything save his fame and those irritating friends of his as well as the way he takes after that bullying man that was his father.”
“Ah,” Buffy said noncommittally, her face smooth.
Temper flaring up at the pacifying nature of his current favourite student’s response he nearly growled. “Ah? I see. You are about to tell me that Potter is none of those things I say and that he is the paragon everyone else claims him to be. The-“
“I said no such thing and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around assuming stuff about me. I get that enough back home and you know what they say, assume makes an ass out of you and me.” Her voice was flippant but eyes that would not be cowed by the fury of a former death eater no matter the situation stared coolly back at him.
Her response stopped him. “What do you mean you get enough assumptions back home?”
Certain now that she had Snape’s attention, Buffy grabbed a chair and sat down facing him across his desk. She leaned forward a little as though to emphasise her point. “I’m a blonde girl from southern California. I care more about my clothes than lots of other things and I am in a lot of ways the definition of a valley girl. Everyone thinks I’m stupid because of it. They see the hair, clothes and the way I talk and they think that I don’t know anything about anything just because of how I am. They talk down to me and refuse to talk about anything serious with me. Conversation winds up being all about clothes, makeup, movies and pop music.” Snape leaned forward slightly himself, interested in where she was going with this. “It’s a cycle. They think I can’t talk about serious stuff, so they don’t talk about it. Then I don’t talk about it since they’re not talking about it which makes them think I can’t talk about it even more. And so on and so on.”
“People, especially teenagers, usually wind up acting just the way you expect them to when you treat them like they’re gonna act that way. Y’know?” She looked at him expectantly. He just blinked at her confused. “Lemme put it another way. Everyone acts like the Slytherins are all evil so that they’re all upset with everyone.” Buffy paused to make sure he was still following and he gestured at her to continue. “So since they’re all pissed off, it just goes to prove that they’re evil to everyone else.”
“Sad but true.” He sat back. This was hardly news to him. He tried very hard to make his house realise they had other options, but they were constantly slotted into that category by the other houses. It was difficult to shake.
He waited a bit as Buffy poured her potion in the mason jar and screwed the lid on, labelling it neatly and cleaning up her work area. As she picked up her book bag she turned to him and said, “Not to say that Harry’s perfect ‘cause he’s really, really not.” She paused. “*So* not.” Another slight pause. “But did you ever consider that he talks back to you like that because you insult him more than all the other people in the school combined?”
With that she left him with suddenly rather a lot to consider.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
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Notes: The rating has gone up in this next part to a hard R/ NC-17. Just so you’re warned. I’ve also put a warning in before things get really hem, gory.
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Buffy asked Hermione about places she could teach fighting in. The prefect didn’t even have to think about it as she replied, “The Room of Requirement.”
“The what?” asked Buffy.
Ron had come up behind them and said, “It’s this room that becomes whatever you need it to be when you go in.” He grinned, enjoying being one of the people in the know for a change, and added, “My older brothers Fred and George needed a hiding spot once, and when they went in it was just a broom closet. But when we needed a DADA classroom for Harry to teach defense in it became the perfect dark arts classroom.”
Pursing her lips a little, Buffy had to admit that was impressive. “So we can check that out this evening.” It was agreed, but Harry, Ron and Hermione all insisted that they use Harry’s invisibility cloak. “I have just one thing to say,” Buffy muttered as they made their way down the hall, “If I feel anyone’s hands in any bad places, that person loses a hand.”
“Absolutely,” Ginny said and smacked a hand travelling too low for her comfort. There was a muffled exclamation from Harry.
They were trotting down the hall when a light appeared under the door of the great hall and caught the students’ attention. “What’s going on in there?” Buffy asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Harry, “Hermione?”
“I don’t know either,” she replied.
Ron sounded resigned to his fate as he asked, “Are we going in?”
Harry’s grin was completely audible. “Of course.”
“Of course,” murmured his three henchmen. Then they turned around and made their way to the door. “Is there some way we could go in without using highly visible portal sized doors?” Buffy inquired. The others shushed her and pulled her to the statue on the right side of the door and tapped lightly on its shield muttering something. It promptly swung open revealing a passage. They crept inside and followed it until they reached a door that opened behind one of the hall’s tapestries.
Hagrid’s voice was the first thing they heard. “I found ‘im in th’ forest,” he was saying. “’E attacked me an’ then tried ta run.”
“But what is he?” asked McGonagall.
Snape sounded strained as he said, “More to the point, what did this to him?”
Dumbledore looked very serious as they managed to get into a position to see the action. “You think this was caused by Voldemort?” he asked the potions professor, ignoring the gasps of the others. Under the cloak Buffy and Harry shared rolled eyes at the response then refocused on the discussion.
“You know I do,” replied Snape. “Unfortunately I don’t think there is anything we can do for him.”
Madam Pomfrey spoke up then. “I have to say I agree with Severus. There does not appear to be a single thing I could do to assist him even if I could get close enough.” She demonstrated her point by stepping in the direction of a cage on the floor. The students were in a very bad position behind the table and couldn’t see inside. But when Pomfrey stepped up to the bars, they heard a loud snarl and the whole cage shook as though something inside had thrown itself violently against the walls of its prison. Buffy looked at Harry and inclined her head to the left. He frowned, then followed that direction down the darkened length of the hall to the shifting shadows at the far end of the hall.
She gestured again with her head and Harry understood. She was going to make her way along without the cloak separately from the others to get a better look. He nodded back again and Buffy pulled up the cloak and vanished into the dark instantly. “Hey!” hissed Ron softly.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Harry.
Hermione’s glare could be felt even though Harry’s back was turned. “Why not? Where’s she gone?”
“She getting a better look,” Harry whispered back.
“She’ll get caught,” objected Ginny.
“Can you see her?” he asked and pointed the direction Buffy went. The others had to admit that the moment she’d left the protection of the cloak she had disappeared into the shadows as though she were one of them. They turned their attention back to the conversation between the teachers.
“-Hate to do this,” Dumbledore said, “But it seems the only thing we can do.” They saw the professors raising their wands to cast a fatal spell on whatever was trapped in the cage.
Buffy had quietly circled her way around the room until she was in a position to see what was in the cage. As she reached a place in the shadows, half hidden by the tables she looked at the pale, shivering thing in the cage. It looked from that angle as though it might have been human and Buffy felt sympathy for it. Of course it might be a vampire but there was something familiar about him. As the professors raised their wands, about to kill him, he shifted and Buffy saw a tattoo on his right shoulder of a Gryphon straddling a letter ‘A’. “NO!”
She ran forward, covering the distance between them in a blur and threw herself in front of the cage. She reached a trembling arm through the bars toward her boyfriend. He snarled and was about to throw himself at her when he paused. His head tilted and he sniffed the air. Their eyes locked and he crept over to her to sniff her hand. Recognition dawned on his face and Buffy gently caressed his face. Angel leaned into her hand looking blissful. The moment was over when Snape demanded, “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?”
Immediately Angel jerked away from Buffy and growled at the man. Buffy ignored him and moved to open the cage door. “What are you doing?” Professor McGonagall demanded as she grabbed Buffy and pulled her away. Angel’s reaction was immediate. He began to hurl himself against the sides of the cage in a desperate effort to reach his mate.
“I was letting my boyfriend out of that cage,” Buffy replied, annoyed. “What the hell happened to him?” she demanded as she returned to Angel’s side. He calmed down when she cuddled him through the bars.
Hagrid spoke up, “’E was like this when I found ‘im.” He shrugged and continued. “Tried to attack some o’ the creatures as lives in the woods.”
“Well he isn’t going to attack anyone unless you upset him,” Buffy said with a sidelong look at the silent teachers, several of whom still looked ready to hex Angel at a moment’s notice. Then she reached over and tapped the lock with her wand. “Alohamora,” she said briskly. The door swung open and Angel cautiously stepped out a moment later and immediately glued himself to her side, nuzzling her hair. There was a lengthy pause during which everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to make a move and even Dumbledore appeared uncertain.
After five minutes of standoff Buffy sighed and simply led Angel off in the direction of the Room of Requirement figuring it would give her whatever she needed to take care of Angel until he was back to normal. “Miss Summers!” called Snape.
“Yes?”
“Where are you taking the . . . your . . . er him?” he asked her.
Buffy shrugged. “I thought the Room of Requirement would probably be best. I really don’t think you have the facilities needed for him elsewhere.”
Snape nodded approvingly as she competently herded Angel out of the hall and McGonagall stuttered at her impudence. She turned to the Slytherin House leader demanding, “How can you possibly approve?”
He rolled his eyes. “She’s competent which is really more than can be said for Potter or that Weasley boy and Granger simply hasn’t that sort of self-possession.” He smiled. “I appreciate competence.”
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Angel followed the small blonde out of the hall and away from the people in robes with the wood sticks that he knew could cause pain. One of the robed people in particular had smelled like the ones who had hurt him before and he was glad to escape. He stepped in close to the blonde female and happily sniffed her again. She smelled like safety and home and other things that made his whole body tingle in anticipation. Suddenly he frowned as another scent reached his nose. Woven in among the myriad aromas that made up the essence that was unique to her were traces of four other people. Two of those people were male and Angel did not like that at all.
“Angel!” she hissed as he pulled her to a stop and began to examine her in earnest. There had been two males in close contact with his mate and Angel became even more irritated when the people the four scents came from suddenly appeared in the hallway with them. He growled and prepared to kill these interlopers. A stinging pain brought him to a halt as Buffy smacked him and said, “Angel, they’re my friends. Stay.” The words meant nothing but the tone of voice and the fact that a few words from her sent them trotting off reassured Angel that he did not need to battle for his mate. A couple minutes later he was being pulled into a spacious room with large windows covered in iron bars and heavy red velvet curtains. The floors and walls were covered in golden sienna padding, the carpets and tapestries in warm reds and browns. A large mattress covered with sheets, cushions, pillows and blankets of crimson satin and silk glowed in the corner, a chest-of-drawers and wardrobe made of black oak and shelves of heavy leather-bound books finished the room. A door on the opposite side of the room opened onto a lovely tiled washroom complete with a separate shower stall, bathtub with heated massaging water jets and a full array of male toiletries, towels, washcloths and anything else that could possibly be needed.
Buffy watched as Angel explored the room, examining the closets full of silk, satin, velvet and leather clothing as well as the less flashy cotton jeans and t-shirts, staring in bafflement at the washroom facilities and finally coming to rest on the mattress with an expectant air. She slowly approached him, intending to get him to take a shower or a bath. He abruptly lunged forward and pulled her down beside him onto the bed and began eagerly nuzzling at her and growling irritably when he couldn’t find out how to get her clothes out of his way. Then he realised that the rags he still wore after all the torment he’d undergone were also constricting his movements and he tore at them until they gave way. Angel discovered that his little blonde had vanished into the other room and he followed her in, anxious.
Buffy waited in the washroom as the tub filled with water. Angel’s eagerness wasn’t lost on her and she took several breaths to calm herself as she rapidly peeled off her clothes, knowing that any bath with Angel at the moment was going to get her soaked. He appeared in the doorway and his eyes lit up when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything. Buffy dodged his hands and stepped into the tub. Angel gamely followed her in and hissed when the warm water made the scratches on his legs sting. Buffy was sitting so Angel sat as well and reached for her. He growled again in irritation when she evaded him, then began to purr when her hands began to massage soap onto his shoulders. It felt so good Angel let his eyes slide closed at the pleasant sensations her hands evoked.
After a thorough soaping, rinsing, shampoo and another rinse, Angel was tense again after his repeated attempts to touch and taste his mate were frustrated by how slippery the soapy water made her. Finally however, as she reached to put the shampoo away, he managed to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He rubbed his erection against her and smelled the sweet scent of her skin and the traces of lavender perfume she wore. He sighed happily and nipped at her neck, hearing her breath speed up with his caresses. It was heaven after the horror of the days of torment from before. Although he was aware there was something missing between them, it paled to insignificance before the perfection of the moment.
ENTERING ADULT MATERIAL NOW look for the ~~~~~ to indicate the end of the um . . . stuff.
Suitably startled when her mouth pressed against his, Angel sat still before another memory surfaced. Then he returned her kiss with fervour and slipped his tongue past her lips to tease and taste her. Sometime during the proceedings she had shifted her position on his lap to straddle his legs and Angel discovered his erection was now pressed against her hot, slippery centre. They rocked together for a moment before Buffy broke away, gasping. “Angel,” she sighed, pressing her forehead to his. She looked into his eyes and saw all the love and worship she had come to associate with her vampire boyfriend and she felt her apprehension melt away. He was still there, just buried deep beneath whatever tortures he had suffered.
With that reassurance she grasped his manhood and squeezed, enjoying the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Then he grabbed her hips and twisted, sliding easily into her. Buffy tensed as pain raced along her nerve endings and her hands moved to clamp onto the sides of the tub. After a few thrusts Angel seemed to realise something was wrong and stopped, whining and nuzzling her to try and determine what had made her upset. His head moving frantically, Angel tried to comfort her even though he had no idea what had happened.
Finally the pain subsided and Buffy became aware of the more pleasurable feelings emanating from where their bodies were joined. Experimentally she shifted her hips and felt a very enjoyable sensation ripple through her. Underneath her Angel hissed and grabbed her hips to stop her, but Buffy gently ground against him again and smiled at her lover encouragingly. He got the message that she was better now and resumed thrusting into her. They bucked together sloshing water all over the floor until suddenly Buffy felt a cool rush inside her and Angel relaxed his chest heaving with unnecessary breath. Buffy whimpered feeling distinctly let down by the ending, and more so as he softened inside her.
She bit her lip and slid a hand down to finish the job. Angel looked on curiously, his eyes widening as she began to moan and rock against her hand. Buffy was startled when his hand joined hers, but she was too far gone to care at that point. “Please,” she whispered. Then his fingers, longer and thicker than hers, found their way into her vagina and Buffy threw her head back panting and saying his name. Between the two of them they worked her to orgasm.
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She collapsed onto his chest and rested for a couple minutes before urging him out of the tub. Unwilling to comply since he was quite comfortable where he was, Angel resisted and tugged Buffy back in several times before she finally just eluded his hands and dried off hoping that he would follow her out of the bathroom. She was waiting on the bed with several towels when Angel grouchily emerged and made a beeline for her. Buffy stopped him from climbing onto the bed and firmly dried him off before tugging him into bed and turned the lights off with a word. They fell asleep curled together under the covers.
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Hermione carefully poked her head into the Room of Requirement. She was momentarily taken aback by the chains hanging from the padded walls of an otherwise lovely room, but she took it in stride based on Angel’s reaction to everyone but Buffy the night before. A moment later she squeaked in surprise as she realised that the entwined figures on the bed were clearly wearing nothing under the covers, and that Angel was staring at her with interest as he began to climb out of the bed. Hermione suddenly realised she was about to get an eyeful she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted when Buffy reached out and tugged Angel back under the covers. Angel had begun to growl as Buffy sleepily said, “Morning.”
Blinking in utter bemusement and some fear Hermione replied, “Good morning Buffy. I had to ask, are you coming to classes today?” She flushed as she thought of how that might sound to the blonde.
“I don’t think I can leave him,” replied Buffy. She sighed and pushed Angel back down again. He did not look pleased at being squelched and Hermione edged slightly toward the door. Buffy frowned at her, currently, bestial boyfriend and added, “Could you bring me my assignments and notes from class until I can leave him?”
That drew a small smile from the witch. Harry and Ron would never have asked such a thing. “Of course. I’ll take in your homework as well.” Angel had apparently decided that Hermione was no threat because he had started to nuzzle Buffy’s neck. Hermione flushed bright red and added in a rush, “We’ll drop by with your things this afternoon.” At that she scurried out the door and faced the three waiting outside for her.
“Well?” Harry asked impatiently. Then he noticed her blush. “Are you all right Herm?”
She just shook herself and said, “I have never been so embarrassed in my life.” Then she hurried off refusing to answer any of their questions.
Hermione handed Buffy’s work in and collected the homework assignments and notes Buffy would need. When she reached potions however, Hermione felt some trepidation as she walked up to Snape. Before she could say anything he turned around and asked, “Is that Miss Summer’s homework?”
“Yes.” Proud that her voice hadn’t trembled, Hermoine handed the parchment over to the teacher who simply placed it on the desk before turning back to her. “Is there any-“
Snape didn’t let her finish. “You may tell Miss Summers that she may make up her class work as soon as she is able.” Suddenly his professional facade dropped away and Hermione was faced with the unusual sight of Professor Snape looked deeply concerned about the welfare of one of his Gryffindor students. “How is Miss Summers coping with her . . . old friend?” he asked.
“Er . . . She seems to be alright professor,” replied the dumbfounded student.
Not seeming to notice her shock Snape continued. “Good. If she needs anything at all she may come to me.” Then he turned to the class at large and sneered at Harry. “Good day to you Mr. Potter. Shall we see how well you all manage without Miss Summers to assist?” He then proceeded to teach a lesson the way he always did, by finding any way possible to take points away from Gryffindor and, most importantly apparently, to harass Harry in any way possible.
After dinner Hermione made her way to the Room of Requirement to see how Buffy was doing and give her the homework, assignments and notes for the day. When she walked in Buffy was reading to Angel as he lay with his head in her lap. He was purring and Hermione was reminded of a large cat of some kind, like a panther or a tiger. He glanced up at her for a moment, then recognised her and settled back down. As she handed over the homework assignments to Buffy, the Slayer stopped reading and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “How did everyone take my being missing?”
“Easily enough I suppose,” Hermione replied and sat down across from the pair on the mattress. She glanced around noticing the room was a complete wreck as compared to that morning with the cushions and books scattered everywhere. “Although I still have to wonder what hold you have over Snape that he seems completely alright with your absence.”
Shrugging, Buffy lifted her hands up in the universal sign of ‘I dunno’. “I have no idea really,” she told the other witch. “I mean, maybe it’s ‘cause I challenge him instead of giving in and worrying about my grades all the time.” She snorted. “After all, if you don’t really care too much about your marks beyond not doing really badly, like I do . . . don’t . . . uh . . . you know what I mean.” Buffy trailed off in mild confusion.
“Ron and Harry don’t seem to particularly care either,” responded Hermione with a slight frown.
A sigh escaped Buffy. “Well yeah, but Harry’s factor is that Snape hates him for some reason that has nothing to do with schoolwork, school or anything Harry’s done, and Ron is Harry’s friend.”
“Which is enough to prejudice Snape without Ron and Harry’s ever doing anything at all in class good or bad,” Hermione finished the thought and sighed herself. She glanced at Angel who was starting to appear a little bit restless and asked, “Any particular reason you were reading to him just now?”
“Hunh? Oh!” The blonde smiled sappily down at the handsome man next to her. “I noticed that my voice calms him down and stuff, but I’m also hoping that reading to him will help his memory come back.” She slid a hand into Angel’s hair and began to stroke gently. He surprised both girls by speaking.
“Read . . .” There was a pause as he searched his memory for the next word, none when he spoke her name. “More? Buffy?” His voice seemed to be hoarse from overuse followed by prolonged disuse
Her eyes misted over slightly as Buffy replied, “Sure Angel. But I’d like to introduce you to my friend.” She gestured Hermione closer. “This is Hermione Angel.” The vast improvement over the previous day was clear and Hermione was more than happy to provide this next step.
“Pleased to meet you,” said the witch and she smiled at him. Angel looked her up and down for a moment, frowning. Then he smiled back. Although he didn’t say anything Hermione got the distinct impression that he had both acknowledged and understood the introduction. A moment later he sent a pleading look to Buffy who grinned again and acquiesced, continuing in the book she had been reading. Hermione stayed for a couple minutes, keeping the pair company, then left to update Ron, Harry and Ginny on the situation and get her homework and studying done. As she left Hermione heard Buffy begin another poem.
//Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing.// (Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Sonnets From the Portuguese III)
She hurried away to Gryffindor tower where the other three were waiting for news.
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The week crawled by ever so slowly for the Gryffindors, their teachers and the Slayer and her vampire. Buffy’s only visitor was Hermione, bringing her the days assignments, notes, readings and gossip. Angel didn’t speak again, causing Buffy’s concern to rise a couple notches from where it had fallen. Refusal to talk only meant that he was more damaged, emotionally or physically, than she had thought after his request that she read more. Having tried everything she could think of to get a response from her boyfriend the Slayer was at her wits’ end. She had spoken to him of their time together in Sunnydale, everything from his past that she knew, stories and gossip about her Slayerettes, the wizarding world, Hogwarts, Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived and his friends, her schoolwork, she read Hermione’s notes, her textbooks, assignments, the collection of books in the room, a loaned copy of “Quidditch Through the Ages” and poked, prodded and harassed him.
None of it did any good. He was affectionate, devoted, anxious when she left the room and frequently hyperactive. It was like living with someone who had been possessed by the spirit of an animal like Xander was in grade ten. Only instead of being like a mad hyena Angel was like an extremely affectionate, if slightly afraid of abandonment, dog. One of those big dogs that think they’re actually the size of a scotty. Not once did he speak another word.
Daily visits from Hermione were Buffy’s only connection to the rest of the world. While she would update Hermione, and therefore Ron, Harry and Ginny as well, Hermione would tell her about class, their assignments, help her with the practical work and give her the day’s news and fresh changes of clothes. By the end of the week both girls were very worried about Angel, Buffy wondering how long it would take him to recover, Hermione wondering if he would recover at all. That afternoon, following her usual visit to see the couple the brown-haired witch arrived back at the Gryffindor common room to the expectant looks of her friends.
“Anything?” Harry asked.
Shaking her head, Hermione replied, “Nothing. I just wish there were some way to reach him. Not to mention that Buffy deserves a break. After all, there’s only so much she can do about her grades if she can’t do the practicals.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron retorted, “Oh yeah. Great reason to take a break ‘Mione, school. Fantastic break.”
“A change is as good as a rest you know,” replied the witch with a superior sniff.
As her brother drew breath to retort, Ginny cut him off in an attempt to put off the inevitable fight between him and Hermione. “Be that as it may, we still need to figure out how to help her and Angel. Maybe if he saw some new faces-“ she began.
“No!”
“Absolutely not.” Harry and Ron spoke at the same time. It was a week old argument dating back to the first time the idea had come up right after Buffy and Angel’s seclusion.
“He attacked me ‘n Harry and there’s no telling what he’d do to you.” Ron stated firmly. “I, for one, am not going to get attacked by a snarling nutcase with fangs.” With an emphatic nod he glared at his sister. Harry’s response was a slightly less patronising pleading look and determined nod, but he agreed nonetheless.
Hermione’s response was also part of this now well-choreographed routine. “So it’s alright for me to face off with ‘a snarling nutcase with fangs’?” she inquired. “One who, might I add, is the much beloved boyfriend of a friend of ours?”
Ron stuttered. “Well . . . see . . . it’s . . . you’re . . . er . . . different,” he managed.
“How?” demanded Ginny.
Now it was Harry’s turn. “Look. I’ll go tomorrow and-“
“No!” the other three shouted at him. He looked hurt.
Sighing, Hermione rose to the occasion as the Voice of Logic once more. “Harry. Angel attacked you and Ron that day in the hall. That’s why you two haven’t been going. We don’t know what set him off, and until we do there is no way we can risk sending you in.” Hermione responded to the obvious objection her friend was about to make. “It’s not that anyone thinks you’re a coward or anything else like that Harry,” she said firmly, “It’s just that there’s no reason to go rushing headlong into danger right now.”
“Which still leaves why I’m not allowed to go,” Ginny mentioned.
Ron exploded, “’Cause he just sorta sniffed the air and then launched himself at me and Harry that day and he might’ve been coming for you next!”
“Hermione-“ Ginny started, but she was cut off by the aforementioned witch’s wide-eyed look of concentration. An expression very familiar to those involved in the conversation, it signified that she was having one of her impressively frequent moments of intellectual epiphany.
“Sniff. That’s it!” she shouted suddenly. “Ron, you’re a genius!”
“He is?”
“What?”
“Eh?”
“Don’t you see?” Hermione demanded.
Ron actually replied to the rhetorical question. “No.”
She shot him an irritated glare. “Buffy told us that the demonic vampires have a very enhanced sense of smell. Angel is currently working with a very primitive mindset. Animalistic even. He no doubt identified her partly by her scent and probably considers her his mate.” Her boyfriend opened his mouth again, but Ginny beat him to it and cast a silencing spell on him. Hermione spared her a grateful smile. “Because of his state of mind, when he saw you two he must have also smelled Buffy’s scent on you and believed you to be a threat to his claim on his mate.”
Ginny smiled happily at her friend. “Y’know what that means?” she asked her brother and boyfriend triumphantly. “That means there’s no reason for me not to spend time with Buffy and Angel.”
Predictably Ron freaked. “What do you mean ‘spend time with Buffy and Angel’!” he squawked.
“By ‘spend time with Buffy and Angel’ I mean to be in the same immediate area as Buffy and Angel, for a significant amount of time for the purposes of providing companionship,” replied his sister with some asperity.
“But . . . but . . .” Ron sputtered.
“You sound like an outboard motor Ron,” Hermione told him with a grin. He glared at her.
Harry in the meantime had pulled Ginny slightly to the side. “Are you sure?” he asked. She was about to snap at him for being overprotective, but the concerned look in his deep green eyes made her pause before yelling at him and his next words dissolved her anger even further. “I’m not trying to be overprotective but I don’t want you going into a dangerous situation when you don’t have to. Rescue missions are one thing but you don’t *have* to do this,” he told her.
She sighed. It wasn’t the most eloquent explanation but she understood. More than that, she heard the other unspoken message that, if anything happened he would go to her and the others for help. He was just being Harry. “Yes I’m sure. And I do *have* to do this. Buffy needs to do her schoolwork and maybe if Angel interacts with more people he’ll start talking again and stuff.”
Ron was now muffled firmly by several well-cast hexes by Hermione and could only fume as Harry said, “Fine. But promise me you’ll run like hell for help if ‘stuff’ becomes dangerous.”
An eyeroll followed. “Yes dad.”
When a wicked smirk crossed Harry’s face, Hermione petrified her boyfriend and quickly hauled him away hearing, “Now Ginny, I don’t think you should mistake me for your father,” followed by a surprised squeak before the protrait swung shut behind them.
*******************
Saturday morning Hermione and Ginny took their first shift alone with Angel while Buffy went to make up the practical work from the classes she’d missed. Angel came wandering into the room after a half an hour looking concerned and slightly confused and becoming a little alarmed when he didn’t locate Buffy. Finally turning to the two girls he asked, “Where is Buffy?”
“She had to go out for a while,” Hermione told him in a soothing voice. Inwardly delighted at this evidence that he wasn’t a lost cause she added, “Buffy has to make up some work for her classes.”
The response was slightly less encouraging. “Where is Buffy?” He didn’t seem to understand the words just spoken to him. Indeed neither of the girls could be entirely certain he would understand anything they said. Ginny tried to simplify the concept.
“Buffy will be back soon. She’s fine. We’re just here until she comes back.” He frowned, seemingly processing her words for several seconds until he abruptly nodded decisively and gracefully sprawled out onto the chesterfield.
Silently the girls stared at each other, wondering what to do next. The problem was solved by Angel looking at them curiously then asking hesitantly, “You . . . have . . . been . . .” he paused, frowning.
An encouraging smile crossed Hermione’s lips. “Yes?” she prodded gently.
“We . . .” exasperation covered Angel’s face and it was evident his lessened vocabulary bothered him. Something seemed to occur to him and it came out normally. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked Ginny. She looked slightly startled at his reversion to fairly standard English for a moment before responding with a slightly wry smile.
“The first night you were here,” she replied. “You attacked Ron and Harry. I don’t think you were really aware of what you were doing.”
For a long couple moments the girls wondered if this relatively abstract collection of concepts was too complicated for Angel’s currently malfunctioning mind, but after the pause he nodded in understanding before frowning again. “Harry and Ron.” Again he paused. “One is like . . .” he trailed off again, searching for the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
Hermione came to his rescue. “Boys,” she stated. “One with hair like,” she reached over and gently tugged on Ginny’s bright locks, “Ginny’s, that’s Ron. The other has black hair. Harry.” They looked at Angel expectantly.
He tilted his head a little. “Ron,” he said. “He’s your . . .”
“Brother,” Ginny supplied. “Hermione and him are together and Harry and me are together.” She paused, unsure if her meaning would be fully clear to the vampire. In spite of his attention, neither could help but feel that until he was speaking normally, they couldn’t trust that he would fully comprehend the conversation around him. A sudden inspiration had her add for clarification, “Like you and Buffy.”
As Angel’s eyebrow rose in a look of sceptical interest, Ginny and Hermione wondered if there had been a miscommunication of some kind. Then he leaned forward and his nostrils flared as he took a delicate sniff. “Not exactly like,” he replied, a small but breathtakingly sexy smile flitting across his face.
Flushing Ginny muttered, “No, not exactly like *that*.” While Hermione looked confused. She shot a questioning look at Ginny who refused to meet her eye. A smirk from Angel followed by a very pointed look tracing the area around her hips had Hermione letting out a startled “Oh!” followed by a blush that outdid Ginny’s.
The conversation that followed was somewhat stilted, frequently stalled and was slow in the extreme. However the difference between Angel’s previous state and his current one was made obvious by Buffy’s squeals of delight at her boyfriend’s improvement when she returned from her makeup tests and classes. The other two girls smiled at each other and left.
*************************
While Hermione and Ginny were having a stilted chat with Angel in the Room of Requirement, Buffy was taking her makeup tests and practicals. Transfiguration was first and that went fairly smoothly although Buffy’s time away from the classroom had affected her skills slightly and the lack of practice showed. In potions however, she simply plonked down and mixed away. Snape sat at the front of the classroom sometimes glancing up at her as he pretended to read a text on the qualities of Far Eastern herbs and the substitutions possible with Western ones.
Finally Buffy was in the last stages of her assigned potion, an elixir designed to temporarily improve the user’s memory. It had to be left to simmer for several minutes before the last ingredients were added. Passing the time until she could wrap up her work by flipping through her text in search of a good potion to use on the ice demon she’d run across on her way down to the dungeons, Buffy was startled out of her ruminations (explode the demon or go for the more conventional melting option?). Snape had abruptly slammed the book he was pretending to read shut and had asked, “Miss Summers. I was wondering about the state of your . . . ah . . .” he trailed off uncertainly.
“Angel is much better,” she told him with a small smile. “He hasn’t started talking again really, but he’s better.”
It was with a great deal of hesitancy that he asked his next question. “Have you any notion of what changed him?” he inquired.
She sighed. “I wish I knew. He’s not talking so I can’t find out that way and the only magical evidence of what was done are some small traces that might be the cruciatus.” A shrug and an expression that was both sad and exasperated crossed her face.
“But even transfigurative spells leave significant traces and given the alterations to his physiology-“ Snape was cut off by Buffy’s laughter. At his irritated glare she controlled herself and explained.
“Angel wasn’t human to begin with. The physiological differences between himself and a regular human are because he isn’t one.” The teacher’s expression immediately cleared, then it turned thoughtful as he considered the repercussions of her statement. He was also extremely relieved to discover that there would not be an army of crazed mutated former wizards running around under Voldemort’s control. That is, at least Angel wasn’t the forerunner to such an invasion.
Another couple minutes passed during which Buffy reached the conclusion that it had been far too long since she had last gotten to blow anything up and so she was going to explode the ice demon. Then she was going to add some of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Quick Swamp Mix to the leftover puddle and see how the Hufflepuffs handled getting out of their common room.
Clarifying, Snape asked, “So . . . Angel . . . is somewhat like a veela in the sense that he has two forms, one which is more human and one that is less?” He raised an eyebrow, noting that her book was open to a potion formula that was particularly explosive. He also noted that she bookmarked the page with a slip of paper that read ‘Hufflepuffs’. He decided not to ask. The little fluffballs deserved whatever they got.
“Mmm. A little. In that way. He really only gets with the ridges and fangs and things when he’s really upset.” She grinned at her teacher. “All of his seductive abilities are completely unrelated to magic.” He did not deign to respond to that and there were several minutes of silence as Buffy made various adjustments to her potion and settled down for the last bit of brewing. Some minutes had passed before she turned to Snape and asked a question that had been bothering her for some time. “Why exactly is it that you hate Harry so much? I know you hate Gryffindors on principle and I don’t blame you. We seem to be a fairly irritating bunch, but you really take it all out on Harry.”
Snarling slightly the teacher responded, “It is his unmitigated arrogance and gall. The way he is constantly talking back to me acts without a thought in his head for anything save his fame and those irritating friends of his as well as the way he takes after that bullying man that was his father.”
“Ah,” Buffy said noncommittally, her face smooth.
Temper flaring up at the pacifying nature of his current favourite student’s response he nearly growled. “Ah? I see. You are about to tell me that Potter is none of those things I say and that he is the paragon everyone else claims him to be. The-“
“I said no such thing and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around assuming stuff about me. I get that enough back home and you know what they say, assume makes an ass out of you and me.” Her voice was flippant but eyes that would not be cowed by the fury of a former death eater no matter the situation stared coolly back at him.
Her response stopped him. “What do you mean you get enough assumptions back home?”
Certain now that she had Snape’s attention, Buffy grabbed a chair and sat down facing him across his desk. She leaned forward a little as though to emphasise her point. “I’m a blonde girl from southern California. I care more about my clothes than lots of other things and I am in a lot of ways the definition of a valley girl. Everyone thinks I’m stupid because of it. They see the hair, clothes and the way I talk and they think that I don’t know anything about anything just because of how I am. They talk down to me and refuse to talk about anything serious with me. Conversation winds up being all about clothes, makeup, movies and pop music.” Snape leaned forward slightly himself, interested in where she was going with this. “It’s a cycle. They think I can’t talk about serious stuff, so they don’t talk about it. Then I don’t talk about it since they’re not talking about it which makes them think I can’t talk about it even more. And so on and so on.”
“People, especially teenagers, usually wind up acting just the way you expect them to when you treat them like they’re gonna act that way. Y’know?” She looked at him expectantly. He just blinked at her confused. “Lemme put it another way. Everyone acts like the Slytherins are all evil so that they’re all upset with everyone.” Buffy paused to make sure he was still following and he gestured at her to continue. “So since they’re all pissed off, it just goes to prove that they’re evil to everyone else.”
“Sad but true.” He sat back. This was hardly news to him. He tried very hard to make his house realise they had other options, but they were constantly slotted into that category by the other houses. It was difficult to shake.
He waited a bit as Buffy poured her potion in the mason jar and screwed the lid on, labelling it neatly and cleaning up her work area. As she picked up her book bag she turned to him and said, “Not to say that Harry’s perfect ‘cause he’s really, really not.” She paused. “*So* not.” Another slight pause. “But did you ever consider that he talks back to you like that because you insult him more than all the other people in the school combined?”
With that she left him with suddenly rather a lot to consider.
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