by Houses

Previous , 28, 29, 30, 31, Next

Chapter 27

For a moment, Willow thought her heart had stopped. Then it started back up again with a tremendous wha-dump, sending blood spinning to her extremities, tingling in her fingertips. Despite the momentary disorientation, she couldn't help but chant to herself, 'he said it he said it he said it he said it!' In all Willow's life, all she'd wanted was to belong, to claim a place, to be wanted; a desperate needy craving to be accepted and she hated herself for it. But now, with those five little words, it felt as if her world had swirled to a stop and finally she'd found that place. Draco's arms around her shoulders tightened imperceptibly, and she sighed, leaning back, relishing the feel of his breath on her skin, the shivers that ran along her spine, the ones that proved she was really there, she'd really heard him right.

Unfortunately for her, the three people facing her didn't seem to share her opinion. Buffy's face flickered with confusion and longing of her own, Spike looked wryly sad, and Xander? He was ticked. His face turned a few shades closer to mauve and he opened and closed his mouth a several times in rapid succession. Willow thought he resembled a carp. Not one of those fancy ones with pretty tails that went by the name 'coy', but one of those massive fish that lurk at the bottom of spillways waiting for tourists to throw down food. She raised her hand to forestall the impending tirade but it did no good.

"You're what?!?"

"Married."

"But, how? Why? You don't even know him! What could you possibly see in each other? You said last night that the relationship was only a day or so old!"

"You, see, Xander; it's complicated-"

"Complicated? You don't even know if you love him! Remember? You can't be married to him!"

Willow's heart sank. She felt Draco withdraw behind her, though his arms didn't move from her shoulders. Distinctly arctic, his thoughts withdrew into themselves, and she shivered from the loss. The vengeful part of Willow's personality wanted to whap her friend upside the head, hard, for that comment. "Xander, just because you can't make your own relationships work, don't take that out on me. You left Anya at the altar, remember, not the other way around-"

Eyes narrowed, he stepped a few paces closer. "No! I can't accept this! You have no idea what you're doing." He fumed and waved his hands about as if warding off mosquitoes. His eyes flickered over the pair and lit upon Willow's clasped hands. " And look, he didn't even give you a ring!" He said this last remark with a triumphant 'Ah Ha!' rippling through the words, as if he'd found the answer. He glared at Draco, hands thrust out to the sides, hostility radiating from every cell.

The silver haired wizard had had enough. He picked Willow up, swung her around and sat her on a tomb. He held her down with one hand on her shoulder, and spun around to face the audience. Xander opened his mouth again, but Draco spat out, "Stuff it, pillock." He turned back to Willow and dropped down on his knees in front of her. With one last look over his shoulder, he took her hands in his own.

"I know I've screwed up. It's not like I need Lumpy over there to point it out. But I want to get it right. So I'm going to start now." He fiddled around in his pockets and pulled out a ratty box.

"I did love you, I do love you, and I always will love you. I think we've established that with the whole not being blown apart into thousands of sparkly lights. But what I don't know is, Willow Rosenberg, will you marry me?" He flipped open the black velvet box and fished out a ruby ring. It was over two carats and oval. The soft cemetery light encouraged a warm glow to sparkle off of the platinum band, fashioned into a pair of thin branches covered in willow leaves for the setting. "I should have done this before, if I'd known. And believe me I would have. I know it's not much, but it was my mother's grandmother's ring. She wore it all her life. I thought it would suit you…" He held his breath, afraid to look up. When her hands began to tremble, he risked a glance through his lashes.

She was crying. Fat, hot tears ran down her cheeks silently. She could only stare at the ring, held loosely in Draco's fingers, not moving one digit to touch it. He let out his breath, and curled his fingers around the jewel. He'd given her the choice freely, and she hadn't said yes. No wonder she didn't trust him, after the Conligato incident. Maybe that's all he was good for, tricking people into things, nothing more than a common Slytherin. His shoulders hunched forward and he moved to stand up, halting when he heard the whispered, "Yes."

Her face turned to his, her green eyes sparkling with tears and light, she grabbed his hands tight in her own. Louder, she repeated herself, "Yes. I will. I do. And I did." She laughed. "Good thing we're not responsible for any horse and cart, cause we definitely would have mucked that one up." She flashed a brilliant smile, and in that moment the rest of the world melted away. The hostile friends, the dusty cemetery, the lies and half truths that had followed them from his world to hers- they were gone. He pulled her tight against him, brushing his lips softly against hers, tasting the pain and hope all at once. She sniffled a bit, wiping her cheek with one trembling, pale finger. He smiled back, the silver in his eyes looking for a moment more coyote than human. The moment was interrupted by a sharp British drawl.

"Well, I usually prefer my hearts still beating in boxes and my flowers on graves, but that was just touching." Spike strode forward and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "Glad to see you yanked your head outta your ass." Draco gave him a wavering grin and pulled Willow to her feet. She pulled the ring from his hands and quietly slipped it on her ring finger.

Buffy tilted her head to the side and raised her hands, palms up. "You know, Wils, this world is too short. Our lives are too short. Heck, if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. Really." Sadness pulled the wattage of her smile down but she was trying to understand. A young woman whose time was limited and whose dream of white picket fences was an impossibility. Willow reached her hand out, laying it gently on her friend's arm.

"Thanks, Buffy. I know it may be hard to understand, but I think I need this. Or something does. And, well, nothing's perfect. The world is just what we make of it." Her lips twisted up in a wry smile. "Besides, I'm kinda stuck with him."

Her friend laughed softly, "Yeah, I guess you are."

Xander looked almost defeated, but tried one last time. "Wil, he's just not-"

"Good enough for me?" She took two steps closer to her oldest friend. Her voice shook as she murmured, "Look at me, Xander. Not good enough for me? Or not good enough for whom you think I am. I'm not fifteen year old Willow anymore, ice cream on the end of her nose waiting for you to notice me. I'm not Oz's little groupie, net girl with her heart all still in one piece. I'm not even the same girl that floated Tara off the dance floor for her birthday." She started to tear up again and rubbed at her cheek fiercely. "I'm me. Look at me." She stared up at him, her fists clenched at her hips, eyes flashing with green fire.

"Willow…"

"No, Xander, I thought you understood last night. I'm not what you remember anymore. I don't think you ever truly know a person, not until you've lived their lives. And all of us? You, me and Buffy, we've lived so many lives it's hard to keep track. You know what? I'm tired of my lives going all willy-nilly all over the place, flung around by death and destruction. I think I'll choose for myself this time. And I'm sorry if that hurts you. I never meant to. Friends can just do that sometimes, hurt each other. Comes from caring, I suppose. I love you both, I really do. But this has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

She raised her hand, swirled her fingers, and a small ball of fire appeared, gently rotating. Buffy gasped and grabbed Spike's arm, and Xander shook his head slowly, disapproval and mild disgust marring his features. Draco, on the other hand, grinned like a madman and leered at his love. His mood had improved greatly when she'd taken the ring as her own. His gaze flickered to her ring finger, the ruby glittering in the light of the magical fire. Willow saw and smiled faintly, twisting the flames until they took the shape of a golden dragon, wings outstretched in flight. It beat the air for a moment and left Willow's hand to fly a circle around Draco before dissolving into the night air. The redhead turned back to her friends.

"Draco loves me, Xander, for all of me. For the parts of me that look funny in the morning, for the parts of me that talk to mollusks, for the parts that can't fly on a broomstick to save my life. All parts, Xander, even the magic bits. He knows me, the real me, not the shiny happy exterior, not the mask I wear. He's seen inside me and hasn't run away."

"I am who I am, spells and all, despite what you would wish for me. It was something I realized when I first got to Hogwarts. My magic is in me, part of me, and last year when I was trying to overcome that 'addiction', I had no idea what I was doing. Repressing the magic only made it that much more dangerous when it finally burst loose. I tried to squash something as natural to me as breathing." She shook her head. "And as much as you all cared for me, you couldn't understand. Well maybe Buffy could have." She turned to the blonde. "Remember how it was when you tried to stop slaying? How you went slowly mad denying that part of you? It was like that for me. I thought I was drowning."

Buffy shook her head and started to say something, but an enormous sigh from Willow stopped her. "I know. That was after. I don't know why I started down that road to begin with. Not understanding everything I had inside, I suppose. It was so easy, so quick to do things the magical way. And when I did, all I had was encouragement for so long. I had no real structure, no concept of what the reliance on power was doing to me until it was too late." She grimaced, reliving unpleasant memories, Dawn's scream of pain as her forearm shattered ringing through her ears.

A deep breath and she continued, "I have this darkness inside, and I battle it every day. It would be so easy to let go, but I'm learning to be stronger than that. I have to be." She bowed her head and Draco stepped up behind her. She reached her hand out, gripping his fingers fiercely. "In Draco I see what it would be to be totally magical, to have it all at your fingertips, and it makes me stronger. You want to know what's funny? I think I may love him despite his magic. He could be so much more than his name, and I want to be there when he becomes. Just becomes. After all, he's still learning how to be a Muggle." She winked at him. "If I can just keep him from ending up as dinner, then we'll have gotten off to a great start."

Chin raised, she glared faintly at the dark haired youth through the recurring tears. They stood facing off, two lifelong friends facing inflexible feelings. Willow was never going to be what Xander remembered, and Xander was never going to understand. He was silent for a moment before he grabbed her roughly up into his arms, crushing her tight. "I know you're not fifteen anymore, Wils. And I may never be O.K. with the magic, but I'll manage." He kissed her forehead and leaned her back. "I'm sorry." He glared over her shoulder. "I still don't like you."

Draco sneered right back, "Likewise, Lumpy."

Willow laughed weakly and wiped her eyes. Draco pulled her back into his possessive embrace and she muttered, "You don't have to squeeze me to death, you know. I'm not going anywhere, or did you miss that part?"

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances and Spike stepped forward. "Well, you two look right knackered, what with the emotional nuclear explosion that just went down. I think I'll walk you back to the house and let Buffy and the whelp finish patrol. Sound ok with you?"

Willow nodded, pulling away from the wizard, but still keeping a tight hold on his fingers. Buffy offered them a small wave and almost smiled as they turned to walk from the graveyard. Willow tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but it still stung.

Draco was silent, fingering the stake he picked up from the grass by the tombstone before they left. The night was bright now with all cloud cover blown away by some distant ocean breeze. Bright stars flecked the sky like so many grains of sand tossed to the wind. "Are they the same, do you think?"

"What was that?"

"The stars. Are the same stars in your sky as in mine?"

Spike spoke softly, "I don't know. Most of them, probably. I think the versions of our world are fairly close, not like the demon dimensions. Though even then, some of the stars could be the same."

"Maybe." Willow squinted and spun around in a circle. "It's hard to say since we're in California and you're from England. I didn't spend much time in the towers with Sinistra, I mean Professor Vector, but most of the constellations are similar. Arithmancy uses the same zodiac signs for a lot of their calculations, but I didn't study it with too much enthusiasm. I was supposed to be checking out some books on Arithmancy and dimensional travel but I kept getting distracted."

Draco snorted. "Right. I took that class; there is nothing exciting in Arithmancy unless you're Granger. She finds everything exciting."

Willow smiled wistfully. "Yeah."

Spike shooed them down the street. "Thinking about the stars is a bit like thinking about how we ended up with different realities to begin with. Who's to say that we aren't running around in hundreds of worlds, walking along the street looking at the stars?"

Grimacing, Willow murmured, "Yeah, and we all know how well that turned out. Vamp me was way too skanky for my tastes… though she did get the kinda gay thing right."

Both men stopped abruptly. "Vamp you? Skanky? How'd I miss that one?!?" Spike's jaw was wide open and he had a gleam in his eye that Willow had missed in recent years. Draco, on the other hand, looked pale and uncomfortable.

"You were a vampire?"

Giggling, she elaborated. "Spike, you were off with Drusilla in South America, and she wasn't from this reality. One that Anya created when she granted Cordelia's wish. She really didn't like it here, not that I blame her. Here's not the easiest place to be." Her face fell, and Spike placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Buck up, Red. They'll come around." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you ever think that there may have been more to it than getting lost?"

"Huh?"

"Back when the initiative put that chip in my noggin, Giles said something to me at the time that I didn't want to listen to. He said that maybe there was a higher purpose to what happened, and maybe I should figure out why." He peered at her closely, rubbing his hand on his chin. "Someone once told the Poof that we've all got something to atone for. Maybe the PTBs have something in mind for you."

She froze, the words from her dream echoing back, 'You have work to do…' She shook her head. "I… I don't know Spike. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or why me. I mean, I get the atoning thing, boy do I get that, but not how I can make a difference."

"Professor Snape told me about the dream." Willow whirled on her lover, her fingers and lips going numb in apprehension.

"What?"

"And I read that stupid Indian thing."

"Native American."

"Whatever. Anyway, I read it, and I think I understand." He rolled his shoulders and looked down at the diminutive woman. "There's something left undone. That's why it didn't hurt to go to Hogwarts, but coming here was so painful. You aren't where you're supposed to be." His eyes were uncharacteristically kind for a moment before returning to their typical cynical, wary gaze.

"I wonder if I'm ever where I'm supposed to be."

"One day, Red. And now you're back to Buffy's place, which is definitely where you're supposed to be right now. I've got to catch up for the rest of the sweep, so I'll just say goodnight here." He nodded and leapt off the porch, vanishing into the bushes with a swish of a duster.

The pair stood in the evening for a few moments, looking out at the street. It was quiet and empty, a far cry from that morning's hustle and bustle of suburban life. Willow turned the doorknob and started up the stairs. A few steps behind her, however, Draco stopped when something caught his eye.

On the low table near the sofa was the pile of books that Dawn had dropped that morning. The covers were bright, mostly reddish, with pastel drawings of children and fantastic animals. Across the top cover were blazoned the words Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. He froze for half a second before swooping up all four.

"The books, these are the books!"

Willow turned, nodding. "Dawn must have left them out for you. Why don't you bring them to bed?"

Even if she'd tried to pry them from his fingers, he wasn't letting go. His world, novels here, but his world none the same. He couldn't wait to get them open. Willow shook her head with a smile.

"Come on, Coyote, you can read upstairs. I'm pooped." He bounded up after her eagerly, stopping briefly in the bathroom to brush his teeth and scrub the dirt off of his fingers before hurrying down the hallway and flopping down on Willow's bed. She crawled in after him, curling up along his side, her head pillowed on his chest. He ran one hand through her hair, the other holding the book propped open to the first chapter.

"Finally," he whispered, turning the page. Willow just smiled and flipped off her bedside light. The glow from the far lamp was enough to illuminate his shadow on the wall, head bent, reading intently. The only sound was the gentle rustle of turning pages.

He was absolutely riveted.

On the surface level, the writing was much more sophisticated than he would have thought, with good use of imagery and language. This Rowling lady, he assumed it was a lady, had a wicked turn of phrase and obviously knew her stuff. His world seemed so much more fun and magical seen through the eyes of someone new. Rowling made the entire thing sparkle, and he wished he'd remembered how beautiful it could all be. Too often recently, he'd found it frustrating, probably due to that pesky impending Dark Mark thing this summer.

On the more primal level, the books gave him goose bumps and a weird sense of vertigo. This was his world, his life, spread out for all the world, not his world, but a world, to see. It was as if someone was watching him, them, all of them, scribbling things down. He wanted to turn his shoulder to see if someone was still writing, stealing little bits of his life and self, putting them down on parchment in perfect lettered script.

Creepy, but informative. Perhaps he'd viewed his world with the narrow lens of youth before, seeing only the things that affected him directly, the things and occurrences that made him who he was. It was self centered, surely, but he didn't really think that anyone else had a better way of going through life. He looked around the bedroom and felt as if he were tilting, as if he were walking on icy ground, inclined just enough to skitter him downhill off kilter. Maybe this was what changing one's perspective felt like, sliding slightly sideways. Reading these books gave him so much more to think about. As a result, as he put down book two at two thirty in the morning, and picked up book three, he'd come to several conclusions.

Firstly, that he'd hated Harry Potter for all the wrong reasons. He'd always assumed that Harry wanted all the attention lavished on him by the wizarding world. After all, it was Draco's primary goal in life to seek attention and get his father to notice him. On further reading, however, it appeared that Harry's distain of the public eye was not a front, and he absolutely loathed the fame. Interesting. Harry had the attention Draco wanted, and acted as if it didn't matter to him. That infuriated Draco to end, the casual, almost antagonistic, dismissal of the desired attention. But Harry hadn't behaved that way as a personal affront to Draco's sensibilities, it seemed. Harry had pretty much distrusted him from the minute they laid eyes on each other; maybe it was Weasel's doing. Maybe it was the Malfoy vibe. You pretty much loved it or hated it. Guess Harry wasn't a lover.

He should have hated Harry because he got away with it all. He was a Malfoy, the privileged ones. He was supposed to have gotten the special favors, the secret nods, the ability to do whatever he damn well pleased whenever he wanted to. But no. Harry and his minions could run rampant all over everywhere, wreaking havoc and they got called heroes. It was pathetic, patently unfair, and obviously the reason the books were named after Harry. Though, Draco Malfoy and the Magical Life Enhancing Shiny Rock had a nice ring to it.

Secondly, he realized that Harry's life was considerably, how would Willow say it?, suckier than he could have imagined. He was only through the first two books, but Harry had been locked in a closet under the stairs, for years apparently, spent part of a summer locked in a barred room, had to live with Muggles so Mugglish that they should be hexed on principle, and was generally pretty unhappy. Didn't make Draco like him any more, but it did give pause to his image as the perfect Golden boy. Draco had always thought that Harry had been putting them on with the shy, quiet, self effacing manner. If he'd had to live with those Dursleys, Draco was pretty sure he would have tried to make himself as invisible as possible, too. Erugh.

Thirdly, he finally understood why Crabbe and Goyle had acted so weird during the winter holidays their second year. They were going to get a chewing out for eating strange floating pastries when he got back. Honestly, how thick could they get? At least Granger had been turned into some weird sort of hybrid cat. Wonder if she'd taken on any personality from Millie's cat; the thing was absolutely vicious. It used to lurk around corners and pounce on unsuspecting passersby, sinking its tiny perfect teeth into tender ankles and leaving blood trails on half of Slytherin house's socks. It certainly would explain a lot.

He yawned as Willow turned over and pushed her back up against him, nudging him closer to the edge of the bed. He put the book down and leaned down to kiss her forehead. His Willow had said yes. He grinned. She said yes. Screw fame, he'd found something better. And his father was definitely going to notice him now…

He flipped the book back open.

Fourthy, he discovered that as much as these books were 'All About Harry', there was some part of them about him as well. And much to his discomfort and dismay, he was, in fact, a little shit. No way around it, he, Draco Kyanitus Malfoy, was an insufferable prat. He hadn't expected that. Sure, he remembered doing all those things, but they didn't seem so petty and, well, stupid. Or, he remembered having a really good motivation for them at the time. Not good as in morally good, but he remembered them making a whole heckuva lot more sense.

At least his father made him look better in comparison. Honestly, did his dad really think it was a good idea to threaten a student in school? Really. No wonder he lost a house elf. He rolled his eyes. Not that Dobby was much of a loss as far as he was concerned; the house elf was definitely one of the most obnoxious of the staff. Anyway, this was only through his second year; he could only imagine how he came across later. Two more books to go, and the night was still young. Time to find out.

*** *** ***

Willow yawned, stretched and rolled over. She let out a small eep as she came face to face with a drooling Draco, his head pillowed on page 443 of The Goblet of Fire. His hair had come loose and cascaded down around his face, fluttering in the breeze of soft snores. He had huge purple bags under his eyes, and an errant crease or two on his cheeks from sleeping on literature. He made no move as she carefully edged out of bed, checking the clock as she went.

9:36 AM

That would explain why the house was so quiet; everyone was gone. She grabbed a few old clothes from the closet, strangely missing the comforting familiarity of robes and layers, and wandered into the bathroom for her morning ritual. Dressed in pair of soft green cords and a long sleeved cream colored shirt edged with ivy leaves, she peeked in at Draco. He was still sleeping, curled up around her pillow now that she'd left. She closed the door and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

Left over pizza, cereal, eggs, toast, some sort of pasta, soup, and a wilted head of lettuce.

She thought for a moment and went for toast with peanut butter. She heated up a cup of mint tea and went out to the front porch to munch. The street behaved much as it had the day before, casual normal lives winding on. She thought for a moment what she should do with the rest of her morning, so bright and blue in a way that only Southern California can pull off in winter. Things were actually greenish, not dried and brown, and the brisk breeze pushed the smells of the sea inland.

She decided on a walk, but a walk to no where in particular. The cup was washed and left to dry and she grabbed one of Dawn's light coats as she went out the door. She didn't figure she'd mind too much, and she did plan on being back before school let out. It was cool, but pleasant in the sunshine, enough so that she left the coat unbuttoned.

She walked first on the same route she'd taken the night before, turning into the cemetery before she even noticed what she was doing. So much time spent in cemeteries, but she hadn't missed it one bit in England. Sure, some things were dangerous there, but it wasn't the nightly fight to stay off the menu or out of the ritual like it was here. The graves seemed peaceful in the daylight, not harbingers of possible walking death. A casual caress of a stone angel, and she continued.

Next she found herself walking into town. The Bronze was still there, closed during the daytime, but obviously still doing wonderful business. It advertised a trio of bands for the weekend, but none Willow had ever heard of.

The college campus came up on her right, and she mentally rolled her eyes. What a mess she had made of last semester. She had no idea whether or not the university would even accept her back, given that she'd pretty much disappeared at the end of the semester, no paper work to show where she'd gone. She wandered around the grounds for almost an hour, but it was more painful than she'd imagined. There was the bench where Glory sucked Tara's mind away, there was the frat house turned into a Fear Factor gone postal, here was the coffeehouse where Cave Buffy had rescued her and that twit Parker from the fire, there was where she and Oz had picnicked only days before he'd boinked Veruca. It was almost too much, the memories, and as she passed Stevenson Hall, she sat down, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"This was my life." A passing student looked at her strangely but kept walking. Willow didn't see him. "But it isn't anymore." She took a deep cleansing breath and centered herself, sending tendrils of her magic out. The magic here felt different, darker and harsher. The Hellmouth at work, she thought. There were threads, however, that glowed like fire, bright spots of healthy magic, or at least balancing magic. It was not all evil; the magic of the Hellmouth; like all magic it was what you made of it. Willow smiled faintly; maybe it meant that her magic wasn't all dark as well. She drew her magic back and opened her eyes. The world looked the same, but she'd found some manner of peace again.

Continuing her walk, she headed downtown. The coffee shop that Giles sang in, the ice cream store that lured her away the night she found out about vampires, and lastly the Magic Box. She wasn't sure what brought her feet here, but when it came into view, she stopped, hugging the shadows under an overhang. Rough clad workmen herded in carrying sacks and boxes, their shirts stained dark from sweat, dust covering their faces. Willow edged closer until she could see the outline of Anya and Giles discussing some plans with a contractor.

She almost fled right then, but something made her stay. The same something that caused her to stand up to her friends last night drove her to open the door to the shop, offering a faint smile as Anya turned her way.

With one raised eyebrow, Anya spoke, "You aren't going to destroy the shop again are you? We just all the plumbing hooked up. If you wish to destroy something, please go next door; they serve terrible hamburgers."

Willow's mouth dropped open. "Erm, Anya, hi. I don't want to destroy anything. I just wanted to see if you and Giles wanted to have a late lunch. Though, maybe not next door, since apparently the food isn't that good."

Giles turned, finished with the contractor for the moment, and pulled off his glasses. "Willow. It's about time for a break, don't you think Anya? I'd love to join you for lunch."

Anya gave the red head a measured look and dashed behind the counter, fishing up her purse. "Sure! The Italian place down the road is pretty good. I could really go for some gnocchi."

Giles held the door for the ladies as they walked out into the early afternoon. The vengeance demon kept up a steady prattle on the way to lunch, pausing only to have Giles open the next door for her.

"So, Willow, what brings you here today? We thought you'd be home snogging your honey or whatever they say in England."

Blinking, Willow stuttered a bit. "S-s-snogging? Ah, he's asleep. I think he stayed up all night reading the Harry Potter books Dawn left for him. I found him halfway through book four this morning."

Anya raised an eyebrow. "That must have been a bit of a shock for him."

Willow rolled her eyes, "A whole world of yes. I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get back later. So what's good here?"

They chatted about the menu for a moment, and the waiter took their orders. As he walked away, Willow reached for her water glass, but never got to take a drink as the woman across from her let out a shriek.

"Sweet fires of Alghenot! Is that a ring!" Anya grabbed her hand quickly, turning back in forth in the light. Willow blushed a deep pink as Giles leaned forward to add his own inspection.

"It looks like a ruby, two carats or so? Maybe from Thailand, but perhaps not. Hard to say without a closer look at the inclusions." Both women turned incredulous eyes his way. "Ah… rubies are useful for catching essences for spells. Incidentally, they're also the historical engagement ring for European nobility before this whole diamond nonsense. They symbolize passionate love and are supposed to represent the emotional fire of a relationship."

"You weren't wearing this when you showed up…" Anya trailed off accusingly.

"Ah, no." Willow took a deep breath. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you both about. Last night, Draco asked me to marry him. And I said yes." Anya squealed again. "But it's kinda an afterthought since we're technically already married." The squealing stopped.

Giles polished his glasses. "What?" He tilted his head. "Did we hear you right?"

"I know you already guessed this, Giles, but the bond, the dragon on my chest, means more than a mental link. It's called Anima Conligato, and it means soul bound. Supposedly, it binds us for all eternity in some sort of spiritual marriage. We've not been through the whole 'legal' bit yet, and he sorta forgot to ask me at all before the binding, so he brought his great grandmother's ring to do it right." She blushed again.

The honey blonde regarded her for a moment. "Are you happy?"

Breaking out into a huge smile, Willow chirped out, "Oh, yes. I mean, he did it all backwards, but he still got there in the end. And I know we're young, but given the way life is around here, you never know who's going to be eaten, or sacrificed, or sucked away to another dimension. For once I took Buffy's advice to seize the day, and I think it works. Or, it has the potential to." She stopped to take a breath, and Giles laid his hand on her arm.

"Then we're happy for you. Everyone has made questionable decisions, so not a one of us is liable to throw stones. As long as it's what you want." He smiled faintly, a paternal sort of smile, and Willow beamed.

"Thanks. And that brings me to the second reason I'm here." The glow faded from her face and she looked serious. "I need to apologize. First, for trying to kill both of you. Second for not trusting you when you saw that I had a problem dealing with my magic." She looked up hopefully. Anya was giving her that measured look again, and Giles merely seemed thoughtful. "I know it's a lot to forgive, and I'm not hoping for anything now. But I needed to say it."

"Well, I can't say I'm happy with what you did. After all, you hurt my money and, well, me. But it wasn't anything I wouldn't have done in your place. Hey, vengeance demon after all." Anya's lips quirked up in a smirk. "Though, I would have been much more likely to go with boils and blinding torment." Willow almost laughed.

Giles murmured, "Thank you, Willow. Neither are easy things to forgive. It may take time, but luckily, that's one thing we have." She smiled a bit uneasily. "Now, it appears that lunch is here. Shall we eat?"

*** *** ***

Walking home after lunch, Willow felt a certain weight had been lifted. There was only one more person to talk to, and hopefully she could catch Dawn later. The rest of lunch had gone smoothly enough, Anya supplying enough conversation for three lunches, and Giles adding commentary where necessary. They had developed a surprising closeness, and Willow wondered if there was more there than anyone said. Anya did seem happier, and Giles didn't reprimand her choice of conversation material once. It certainly gave Willow pause for thought.

She climbed the stairs, intending to check on Draco, when a partially open door caught her attention. It opened to the master bedroom, her room, Tara's room, and she paused. She gently pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping in. Immediately she was assaulted with images from that day, the last day, the day her world fell to dust. She could see Tara silhouetted from behind, the golden late afternoon sun setting her hair aglow, the blinding happiness she felt when they'd put their past behind them and decided to start over. And then the window broke, and it all ended. Willow didn't even know she was crying until two strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her close, and she dripped hot tears over pale skin.

"Hey you." Draco's voice rumbled through his chest, the vibrations tickling her cheek. She sniffled and looked up.

"You're naked."

He grinned. "Not completely, but I could be if you wanted." He tugged at the towel and elicited a tilt in her lips.

Still sniffling, she pushed away, walking to the window. "I used to be a hero, you know."

"Pardon?" He came to stand behind her, looking out into the back yard.

"Before. I used to be a hero."

"Hmmm, you mentioned that, I believe."

"And then one day it changed. I became the evil we fought, right here in this very room. And I loved it."

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But now?"

She laughed, softly, bitterly, "Now?"

"What are you now?"

"Not evil anymore, I don't think. But not a hero either. No black or white for this witch."

"Firestarter, there is rarely black or white to anyone." She turned away from the window and the pain it reflected. He looked down at her, his face serious for once. She reached up and traced his lips with her finger.

"What about to you?"

He laughed. "Hardly black or white."

"You could be a hero, you know." He quirked his brows, amused light dancing in his eyes. "OK, so maybe Slytherins aren't usually heroes. But you came for me."

He nodded. "I did, but it was hardly with noble intentions. Entirely self serving, I assure you." He pulled her close. "As I said before, I hate to lose what's mine."

She snorted. She felt a wave of possession from him and frowned. "Why is that?"

"What?"

"That I feel some things and not others?"

Tilting his head, wet hair clinging to his skin, he thought for a moment. "I don't know. I was thinking about this earlier, and I decided that it may have to do with leakage. Maybe."

"Leakage?"

"You know, that there's too much and some thoughts or emotions just spill over?"

She nodded, "That makes sense. But it could be a real problem if we were ever in danger."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. When those vampires were mashing me into pulp, I tried to apparate away. Unfortunately, that was right as a huge wave of misery came from you, and phfft. No apparating."

She started guiltily at that. "I might have a way to fix some of this. I did a spell once where I sort of melded with another witch. We could see through each other somewhat, and it made working magic together easier. Maybe if we give the magic a free path, it can get evened out and we can work on a more stable way for this bond to… bond… or whatever."

"Tara?" He wondered at her composure at his question. He hadn't meant to say anything; it just popped out. Being in the room where she'd died, he half expected his Firestarter to burst into tears again. Not that he minded comforting her, especially since it meant holding her close, but he never had much experience dealing with crying women. His mother had never cried in front of him, and the girls in his house were more likely to cry because of him than in front of him. Thankfully, she merely smiled faintly at some memory and cut her eyes away.

"Yeah… Anyway, I have some candles and herbs around here somewhere if you want to try." And suddenly she was blushing.

He arched an eyebrow and tugged her gently to the door. "Sure. Lemme get dressed a bit more though, just in case something goes wrong."

She fluttered a smile. "Well, it has been a while, but I think I can manage it." He walked into her room and she dashed downstairs to root through the spice cupboard. She fished out an old container of rosemary, a twist or two of thyme, and three candles from the dining room. On her way through the living room, she bent down to look under the writing desk. Taped carefully to the back wall was a small plastic baggie, full of a mélange of smushed herbs. She let out her breath, not aware that she'd been holding it, and trotted up the stairs again.

Draco was dressed in another version of Slytherin workout wear, and Willow motioned for him to sit on the floor. She pulled two pillows from the bed and sat cross legged in front of him. Lighting the candles between them, she handed Draco a pillow to put behind him and sprinkled the herbs around them in a circle.

"I couldn't find any of the sand we used before, so hopefully this combination of herbs will work as well." He looked a bit skeptical. "Trust me." He nodded and she reached across and took both his hands in hers, joined over the flames.

"This may feel a little bit weird." She closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. Suddenly, a flash of pink tinged light burst between them, knocking them back against their pillows, hands still entwined.


Chapter 29

They slid over each other like mercury and flame. Their minds flowed backwards and forwards and they were caught helpless as the magic buffeted their fragile psyches. After eternity in a breath, there was peace, and they began their own exploration. Gently at first, as if they were afraid of the consequences, and afterwards secure and confident, finding new paths through memories, thoughts, and dreams. Neither of them knew when it changed, when their bodies realized their existence. The touch of skin on skin, so suddenly and inexplicably bare, caused them both to moan.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Dawn slammed open the front door and tossed her backpack on the couch. Her sister followed, chatting over her shoulder at Xander.

"You know, I think it's sort of sweet."

"Yeah, real sweet. I'm still not convinced he's not some sort of evil psycho from another dimension."

Dawn scowled and walked to the kitchen, snagging three sodas. "Here. I just don't get it at all. I mean, I thought she was all 'girls' now."

From upstairs, a loud moan was followed by a thump and small crash. Xander looked pained, but the blonde only laughed. "I dunno, Dawnie. Willow always was about the person inside, rather than the interlocking parts. And it sounds like they have the interlocking parts down pat."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"So what're we supposed to do, Buff? Act happy he's here?"

Buffy frowned and swished her drink around, listening to the fizz. "I don't know what else we're supposed to do. I mean, none of us have made good decisions in the romance department."

Dawn coughed discreetly under her breath, "Vampires."

Her sister glared at her. "You're one to talk. Anyway, Willow seems to genuinely care for him, and if someone ever pulled a ring out and dropped to one knee like that for me, I'd certainly swoon."

"Someone did, remember?" Xander wiggled his eyebrows. "Wind Beneath My Wings, much."

Squinching up her nose, Buffy flopped on the sofa in the living room. "Don't remind me. I swear Willow's responsible for the whole sordid thing."

Xander sat on the floor in front of the TV and began messing around with wires. "Dawn, you up for a game?"

The girl in question dropped down next to him. "Sure, I'm always up for killing things. What do you wanna play?"

The brunette flipped through the game box, sending a glare upstairs as another loud thump and muffled scream came from Willow's room. "Anything in here for killing arrogant blonde wizards? No? How about Halo then?"

"Cool. Master Chief, sign me in!"

Buffy picked at a loose thread on the cream colored throw blanket as Dawn and Xander started the game. "It is Willow though, isn't it?"

Xander hit pause and looked back at the slayer on the sofa. He thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "Yeah, I think it is. I guess it just took me a while to see it, or should I say see her. Maybe that was our problem last year, not really seeing what went on around us. Too wrapped up in our own lives to notice everyone else's pain. Or that was my problem anyway." Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. "But now what? We don't even know how long she's here for. Forever? Till tomorrow?" He shrugged.

Buffy scraped her hair into a pony tail and leaned back, head pillowed on the pile of pillows. "Then maybe we should do something about that." She sighed deeply and stretched her arms up. "They have to resurface, don't they?"

"Eventually." Dawn took another swig of soda. "At least, they're not with the baum-chica-bom-bom anymore."

As if on cue, the trio could hear soft voices from the upper floor. A few moments later, a very rumpled Willow and Draco appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Not expecting anyone to be home, they froze guiltily when Buffy cleared her throat. Willow gave a small fidget and brushed her fingers down the front of her shirt, straightening the rumpled seam.

"Um, hey guys." Draco merely nodded his head in greeting. Willow took a step forward, uncertain. "I didn't think you'd be home this early."

Xander flicked his gaze at the clock. "It's when we usually get home."

"Oh." Willow sighed, still unsure of her place with the three people littered around the living room. Sensing her distress, Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

Buffy sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. "Actually, Willow, we were wondering whether you'd like to come get coffee with us." Her eyes widened. "Not that we want to get rid of you, Draco, just…"

"It's okay Buffy." Willow and Draco exchanged a wordless look and she stepped forward. "I'd love to. Draco will be fine on his own for a few hours. He promises not to get into too much trouble." The silver haired man behind her growled lightly. "I just have one phone call to make first. I'll be right back." Willow trailed her fingers lightly over Draco's arm as she walked back towards the kitchen leaving an only moderately surly wizard in her wake.

The three Scoobies on the floor looked up at him awkwardly. Buffy spoke first. "You can sit down, you know." He arched an eyebrow. Buffy patted the couch next to her and he gingerly sat, looking around the room with interest. His gaze flicked over the television and he started.

"What's that?" He breathed.

Buffy blinked and both Dawn and Xander turned to look behind them, searching for something out of place lurking on the living room wall. Seeing nothing immediately apparent, Dawn responded, "What's what?"

"The moving picture box? Is that a… what's it called… television?" He couldn't help but lean closer. "One of those Muggle things the Mudbloods are always going on about. Like a painting but not." He squinted. "But it's not moving."

Dawn giggled. "Of course not, silly; the game is paused."

"Game?"

Xander's eyebrows shot up. "You aren't familiar with the glory that is the Xbox? Dude, you are seriously deprived." Draco glared at him but Xander paid him no mind. "It's a video game system. You can play interactive games on it, using these controllers to make it work. Here, I'll show you." Xander fiddled with a few buttons and toggles, and the screen jumped to life. "You're a space warrior, really, called the Master Chief. It's your job to kill the aliens, the purple guys and these things here, on this weird ring world called Halo. You have to protect the marines while following the instructions from the AI in your helmet called Cortana." He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Draco fall off the couch and lean closer.

Dawn handed him her controller. "See here, this button fires your gun, this one throws a grenade- you do know what a grenade is, don't you? - and these two here control how you move." Draco accepted it absently, eyes still glued onto the television where Xander's Master Chief was cutting a wide swath through some hostile somethings in a lurid shade of lavender.

"This is… it looks so, so, real! I didn't think Muggles possessed the ability to render such images without magic. There's no magic here?"

Dawn shook her head. "Nope. It's a completely magic free zone."

A light laugh from the doorway caught the group's attention. "If Crabbe and Goyle could only see you now."

He smirked in her direction. "Firestarter, love, they'd be begging for the controls. This is fantastic." He turned back to the game.

Xander handed his controller to Dawn and stood with Buffy. The slayer gently patted her sister on the head. "You two stay out of trouble, right? We'll be home in a bit." Dawn mumbled something, and the three friends walked out into the early evening.

In a matter of seconds, Draco was enthusiastically mowing down screaming aliens. Unfortunately, his skill was a bit suspect and Draco died twice in rapid succession, throwing down the controller. "What is this waiting to respawn crap?"

"There are enemies nearby, didn't you hear the lady?" Dawn continued shooting and dodging. Draco didn't bother even picking the controller back up; he merely leaned back to watch in silence.

After a few moments, Dawn said, "So…"

"So." Draco uttered noncommittally.

"Do any interesting light reading lately?" Expecting some sort of sarcastic quip, Dawn looked over in surprise as he thought for a moment before responding.

"Actually, yes. The books you left for me to read were most… informative."

"I can imagine."

"Not only am I now aware that my favorite not quite uncle was a spy for the good guys for years, but also that Granger kept Rita Skeeter in her glass jar, and that the great and mighty fighters for the light side know both more and less than my father ever imagined. Potter is a tortured hero; Weasel should have gotten his act together about Granger years ago; Voldemort is a veritable ass-hole, even to his own supporters. It's all quite fascinating, and I'm sure it made marvelous reading for you all, but there's something just not right about it." He flicked the controls around aimlessly. "I thought it'd be funny to read all about Harry the Hero Potter, but it wasn't really. No more amusing than watching my own life unfold in not so flattering detail. Not to mention seeing who and what I've got in store for my future, if Father Dearest has his way. Sobering doesn't even begin to cover it."

Dawn's eyebrows climbed higher. "Wow. And here we are thinking you're an evil, callous, dark arts practicing mini-Death Eater. You have depth. Who knew?"

He glared at her. "Har-bloody-har-har." He stared off into space briefly. "You ever have one of those times when you can't figure out how to get off the ride and it keeps spinning faster and faster, never letting you stop?"

Dawn looked down at the scar marring the skin on her forearm. "I think it's safe to say I do."

He nodded sadly. "Then you understand what my last few months have been like."

They sat there silently for a few moments, the game forgotten, lost in memories. Suddenly, Draco broke the quiet. "Remember what you said about my robes? How they were all out of fashion here?" She cocked her head. "I have a proposition for you."

The teen swiveled around, eyes glittering. "What sort of proposition?"

"I think it's time I had a new look. What do you say to becoming a fashion consultant?"

She appraised him carefully. "What's in it for me?"

Standing, Draco fished around in his pockets, pulling out a round roll of money. "Does this look like your money to you? If so, then we're going shopping. I seem to recall from Willow that you are awfully fond of new clothes. My treat?"

Dawn's face broke out into an enormous smile as she fingered the bills hungrily, a wistful look on her face. "How are we going to get there?"

He shrugged. "That's your problem. I don't do Muggle transportation and given that Willow still has my wand in her pocket, I don't see how much help I can be."

Tapping her finger lightly on her lip, Dawn thought for a moment. "Mind if we invite someone else?"

"Who?"

"You'll see. Trust me?"

"Not even remotely, no, but since you seem to know what to wear around here, go ahead." She sprang up and dashed to the kitchen phone. Draco could hear her talking animatedly to someone at the other end. In a matter of minutes, the girl was back in the living room, purse in hand.

"Alrighty then. It's all settled, she'll pick us up in about ten minutes. You ready to go?"

He looked down at himself grimaced at the rumpled, smudged image he presented. "No. Hang on, I'll be right back." The silver haired wizard dashed up the stairs leaving Dawn eagerly looking out the window. He ran back down the stairs, freshly brushed and straightened, as a low, red car pulled up outside and beeped. Dawn grabbed his arm, pulling him out the door, wherein he stopped short.

"I am not riding in that."

Dawn looked back and forth between Draco and the BMW. "It's a car. Get in."

He grimaced with a look more suited to being clawed by a litter of kittens than an afternoon outing. "It's not safe. I mean, it's got these wheel things and those… whatever they ares…"

Just then, the window rolled down and Anya's golden eyes peered out. "I convinced Rupert to lend me his precious mid-life crisis for the afternoon. Unless you plan on magicing us there and back again without your wand, you'll get your whiney wizard hiney in here."

He blinked. She didn't. Dawn grinned. "Okay then!" She opened the door and shoved him in. "So where to?" she asked as she bucked herself in the front seat.

Anya looked at a still rather alarmed Draco in the rear mirror, desperately trying to figure out what the harnesses did. "I don't think we can get to LA and back by tonight, so Sunnydale Mall? Does Buffy know where you are?"

Dawn winced, but stopped short of snarking back a reply when Draco spoke up. "It's fine. I let Willow know I'm borrowing you both for a little while." He tilted his head. "She says to meet us at some sort of metallic place at nine. Does that make sense to you?"

Anya pulled out into traffic and nodded. "Oh, yes. They mean the Bronze." She made a swooping turn around the corner, sans-turn indicator. "This driving thing has gotten so much easier with practice. I only wrecked this car twice since Willow's been gone! Isn't that wonderful?"

Dawn was twisted around in her seat, staring at him. "That was really creepy you know."

"What?"

She flitted her fingers around her head. "That mind thing. Can you do that? Read each other's mind?"

He nodded. "It seems so. Before it was sporadic and intense emotions could really do some damage to the other person. We did a spell this afternoon, trying to even out the magic a bit. It worked as far as we can tell. I used to only be able to receive- what are they? telepathic messages- from Willow, but now it seems she can hear me as well." He grinned from ear to ear. "Handy, let me tell you."

Dawn winked. "A spell? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Draco almost managed to pull off a simultaneous smirk and blush. "Erm, yes well."

Anya swerved through three lanes of traffic. "So, Dawn tells me you want to get with the twenty first century and ditch the robes. I fully support your adventure into the commerce of our society. What kind of new look are you looking for?"

Draco thought for a moment, weighing his options. He did want to show Willow that he was capable of appreciating her history and heritage, but he wasn't sure how Muggle friendly he could ever be. That said; he didn't have the beginnings of a glimmer how people in this reality dressed. Willow had always worn robes at school, like the other professors. He gave a mental shrug. "I have no idea. I trust you two lovely ladies."

Dawn and Anya shared a wicked look. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Frozen with latte in mid air, Xander looked at Willow with confusion on his face. "Uh, Wils?" His friend was staring forward, not moving a muscle.

A beat and Willow blinked, reaching for the drink. "Sorry guys; that was Draco. He's got Dawn and Anya, and they're going somewhere together." She frowned. "He won't say where, but he's terribly pleased with himself. I told them to meet us at the Bronze at nine."

Buffy and Xander nodded slowly. Buffy took a sip of her mochachino, licking the froth from her lips. "So, telepathy, huh? Never did like it when you went poking around in our heads." Xander nodded much more vehemently this time.

Willow blushed lightly and shrugged. "Well, we were rattling around in each others psyches anyway, so this more directed way of communicating is much, much better. Besides, haven't you ever wondered what your significant other was thinking?"

Buffy grimaced. "I tried that remember? When I got that 'aspect of the demon' a few years ago, it turns out that Angel was the only one I couldn't hear. Go figure."

Xander slashed his palm through the air. "No way, no how, not even remotely interested. I'll take the mild flattery and little white lies any day." He thought for a second. "Never mind. Going that way is liable to get you eaten around here."

The three friends laughed. Buffy sighed and reached out her hand, lightly touching the back of Willow's fingers. "Willow, Xander and I wanted to say sorry for reacting so poorly to Draco's appearance." Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Buffy cut her off. "I know we're not the way we were, but that's alright. Our friendship will get better eventually, but it takes time."

Willow withdrew her fingers. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk about tonight."

Xander burst out, "You're leaving, aren't you?!?"

"But you just got here!" Buffy exclaimed, almost rising from the table. She took a deep breath and sat back down. "Do you know how much went into getting you back? How much time and magic?"

"I know, Buffy, but-"

"There are no buts! Willow, you belong here, with us. Draco can stay; we can manage to find a place for him, I'm sure."

Shaking her head sadly, Willow clutched her coffee. "I know you could. And I would, I promise. Do you remember Doyle? The friend of Angel in LA? Well, he told Angel something once that I think applies to me now. He said, 'We all got somethin' to atone for.' And it's true, we all do. My penance has just begun, and I think it has to be done in Draco's world. That's why I was sent there in the first place." Her friends were looking at her with shock. "I know this might sound strange, but I've been getting these dreams, with Tara. There's something I have to do back home, and it has to be me. I don't have a frilly heck of clue what it is, but I have to go back."

She looked at first one than the other closely. Xander looked petulant, but Buffy almost seemed to understand. She blinked green eyes, and rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the small formica table. "But it won't be the end, I promise. Draco has a way for us to return, as long as I set the spell before I leave. The same applies to sending one of you to wherever I am. I can show Anya, Dawn or Giles how to activate it as well in case of emergencies, or Anya can come leave a message for us on her own. I swear, Buffy, if you ever need me, I'll be there for you. But I can't be here for you now, not as things stand. Even if I didn't have Draco and his ties to home, I have a place there, a purpose."

Buffy nodded and looked to Xander. He sat, tears threatening and laughed harshly. "So this is it? One more day, and you're gone? What're we going to do without you?"

Willow smiled sadly, "The same thing you've been doing for months. I've seen you, the way the gang is without me, and you do just fine."

"But that doesn't mean we don't miss you."

"I know, but I guess this is what happens when we grow up."

They regarded each other in silence. Eventually, Xander shook his head. "Sometimes growing up sucks rocks." He raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to growing up, but to always remembering where you came from. Salut."

The girls raised their glasses in unison. "Salut."

Willow tilted her head. "You know, that would have been a lot more effective with alcohol."

Xander winked. "I think we can manage that tonight." He leaned over and wrapped Willow in a massive hug. "Last time you left, we never said goodbye. We just put you on a plane and off you went bad vibes and all. I don't want it to be the same this time. Sure we have trust and magic issues, but we love you. You're family, Scooby style."

Buffy squished them in a slayer style hug and whispered, "And whenever you're ready to come back, we'll be happy to have you." Willow sniffled, wiped away a tear, and hugged them back with everything she had.


Chapter 30

The Bronze was dim, low lighting hiding flaws and imperfections. Pulsing music soothed angst ridden spirits and swept them away to another world, somewhere free of everyday concerns, where dancing washed the cares and woes off the soul in sweat and alcohol. Tonight's musical offering crooned and cajoled from stage, egging their audience into bliss.

In one corner, several well-dressed patrons played a game of pool, while surreptitiously watching the entry door. At three minutes past nine, a quartet of people walked through that door and scanned the crowd. The trio at the pool table broke out into grins when the young man of the group whispered softly, "Show time!"

Willow and Buffy handed Xander their coats and looked around the room as he wandered to the bar.

"I don't see them anywhere, Wils. Are you sure that he said nine?"

The redhead shrugged. "He did; I'm not sure punctuality was ever his strong suit. But I really have no idea." She turned to the vampire next to her. "Spike, can you smell them or anything?"

He gave her a funny look and sniffed. "I can smell about 50 wishful thinkers wearing entirely too much Drakkar and one poor sod who thinks his father's Old Spice was a good idea."

"Oh."

"Doesn't that nifty mind thing let you know if he's near," Buffy asked, yelling slightly over the crowd.

Closing her eyes briefly, Willow took a deep breath and relaxed. Suddenly her eyes opened. "He's here. I think he's just over-" She blinked. "There."

Spike chuckled and the slayer followed her friend's stare, her own jaw dropping open when she saw her sister and who her sister was currently beating at pool. He leaned over the table, lean legs still on the ground, and stretched his back lightly. The soft lighting reflected off the slightly metallic, steel gray button down shirt clinging to every muscle. He was wearing a pair of black pants that seemed molded to his body and square-toed buckle shoes in what Buffy could tell even from this distance were made of mouth watering Italian leather. But what made the difference from the robed or sweats wearing wizard from earlier to the Draco Malfoy of now was his hair.

Gone were the long, shining silver locks. He'd clipped it close, leaving it slightly spiky and ragged. The tips cascaded around his forehead, like a bright crown, and almost curled around his ears, which seemed to have sprouted a set of thick, small steel hoops, in the latest LA fashion. He turned then, to face them, and smirked, a wicked light playing in glacial eyes. His bruises were faded to almost nothing in the low light, and he hummed with the energy of a wild thing. Buffy turned to look at her friend, only to find Willow on the verge of tears.

Draco must have noticed the same thing, because he strode forward until he was mere inches from the witch. She raised one hand in question, almost touching his face and he grasped her fingers with her own. "Like what you see, Firestarter?"

She blinked, hiccupped, and began to cry in earnest. Draco barked out in shock, "Is it the hair? I didn't know you were so attached! It will grow back!" He looked over at the blonde in alarm. Buffy shrugged and held up her hands.

"I have no idea!"

Willow started laughing through her tears. "No, no! I love the hair, honest, I just… Well, I guess…" She sniffled again and peered up at him, green eyes bright. "No one has ever done this for me. Changed what they were to fit in because of me. I've always been the one to change, to fit, to try and…" She wiped her cheeks with her free hand.

He relaxed then, drawing her near. "I had to, to show you."

"Show me?"

"That I love you, all of you. Who you are now, and who you were."

"But you hate Muggles." Buffy had her arms crossed now, glaring. He flicked his gaze her way.

"Yes I do. But I can adapt. I have to."

Dawn's sleek head appeared over her sister's shoulder. "Yeah, that and you couldn't stand being tacky."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true. What was it, 'Malfoy's are always at the height of fashion' or something?" Dawn was smirking now.

"Yes, well, but-"

Buffy turned to look at her sister carefully for the first time. "Dawn, what are you wearing?"

Her sister twirled, showing off her outfit of maroon pants and a sleek cream silk top. "Isn't it neat? Draco bought if for me for playing fashion consultant. You should see what he got Anya!"

Just then, a baffled looking Xander wandered up, drinks in hand. "What happened to wizard boy? He looks almost normal now." He tilted his head. "Well, normal for a GQ model. What'd you do, visit the land of Armani and Gucci?"

Anya reached around and accepted her drink. "Actually, yes. Draco had some delightful currency he decided to invest into boosting our economy. I decided that if he was going to change his wardrobe, he should do it right. They just put a Sacks in at the mall, D'Hoffryn only knows why they chose this god-forsaken sinkhole in pocket spending, and we took great advantage of a willing and helpful sales staff."

Buffy's eyes bugged out. "You took my sister shopping at Sacks Fifth Avenue?!? Oh, great. Now she's got a taste for ridiculously over priced clothes." Dawn pouted and opened her mouth to retort, but Draco beat her to it.

"Oh, so I guess that means I should take back that new leather coat I bought you."

Buffy blinked and Anya chirped, "Oh yes. He purchased merchandise for all of us, as the custom of thanking one's hosts goes. See this?" She twirled, mimicking Dawn's modeling earlier. "Matching calfskin boots and coat. Lovely shade of toffee, looks excellent with my current hair color."

They turned and sat at a recently vacated table and Willow laid her hand on the young wizard's arm. "You mean to tell me that you bought presents for everyone? With what?"

He arched an eyebrow, a gleam in his eye. "Do you mean did I conjure the money? No. I brought it with me, and as far as I know, it's valid currency. The goblin at the bank matched it to the bills in your wallet. As for the gifts? Well, Malfoy's traditionally aren't know for their generosity, I know, but I was shopping for myself, as well as for items I thought we may wish to bring back to Hogwarts with us. All we have to do is miniaturize them before we return tomorrow. I had some extra bills when I was done, so I gave them to Dawn and Anya to do what they wished. They seemed happy with the results."

Willow was looking at him with something akin to shock. "You went to the bank. With Snape. Before you came to rescue me." She shook her head. "Amazing. Only a Malfoy."

"Actually, Snape waited outside of town, curled up under a bench. I wonder what he's up to anyway, since Dumbles didn't let him come."

Willow thought for a moment, recalling her dream of the exhausted Snape, stirring cauldrons and slowly giving up hope. "I don't know…"

Dawn interjected, "Curled up under a bench? How?"

The redhead laughed lightly to diffuse the image in her mind. "He's an animagus too, Dawnie. Like Draco."

The teen turned wide eyes his way. "Is that true? You're an animagus? Like McGonagall? That is so cool."

Xander glowered, rubbing his throat. "Yeah, real cool. You just wait until he's got his jaws wrapped around your neck."

"You started it, twat." Draco glared right back, only softening when Willow cleared her throat. "Yes, Dawn. I'm a coyote, and Snape is a black fox."

Buffy turned to her friend. "What are you, Willow?"

Eyes downcast, Willow flushed. "That's sort of an interesting question. I- I guess I don't do it right. I can be both a lynx and an eagle so far, but it just depends. I could probably take whatever form I wanted."

"Oh-ho. That's what you meant." Draco narrowed his eyes. "No wonder you didn't want to say anything."
.
Willow sighed. "No." The brief pause at the table strained, reminding everyone just how much damage the past year had done to their friendships. Willow looked around the table, finally catching Xander's eyes. "You remember what you said this afternoon? We should try our toast again."

Xander nodded faintly, raising his glass. The rest followed suit, Dawn grimacing at the distinct lack of alcohol in her cup. "To remembering, to growing up, to never getting old." The rest cheered him, and drank, but the awkwardness remained.

Annoyed, Draco stood, offering his hand. "Milady?" he intoned, wiggling his eyebrows. "May I have this dance?"

A faint smile curving her lips, Willow laid her palm on his. "Take me away." He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight. This was the first time they had danced since Halloween, and unbidden, memories from that night crowded them both. She was almost sure that if she looked over her shoulder, she could see tables of students watching, pumpkin punch in goblets, black streamers on floating candles gently waving in the swirl of air rising from the dance floor. She exhaled and leaned into the embrace, into the first place she found real safety in years.

The Scoobies, still sitting at the table, watched the couple weaving amongst the dancers. Buffy spoke, wistfully, "They're not here are they? They do belong in another world."

Dawn tilted her head, and looked. Now that she knew about the wizard's other form, she could see the wildness in his stance, and could visualize the long jaw, sleek fur, wound muscles. "Yeah. Like a fairy tale."

Spike and Xander exchanged glances. "Maybe for her it is. And maybe it is best that they're going back."

Xander nodded. "Maybe. Even if it isn't, her resolve face tells me she's going anyway. There's only one thing left for Willow to do."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Willow relaxed her death grip on his hand when he opened the door and ushered her through. The restaurant was cool and dark, decorated with frilly greenery and stone figures of ancient mythological gods. Draco raised an eyebrow at the décor, but kept his mouth shut. His love was wound up enough without the added stress of his anti-Muggle preconceptions. She talked briefly with the host and wove silently after him between tables to a secluded booth at the rear of the restaurant. Seated at the table were a severe, professional looking Muggle couple, nursing their vodka tonics and checking their watches. Willow stepped up to the edge of the booth and gave a tentative smile.

"Hello, mom, dad."

The woman looked up, as if surprised to see her daughter standing there despite having made arrangements the day before, and glanced over to the young man standing at her side. "Willow, you're late. I wasn't aware you were bringing guests. I'm Sheila Rosenberg, and this is my husband Ira." She thrust her hand forward, measuring Draco up with both sight and touch.

"Dr. Rosenberg, Sir." He nodded at each. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. I am Draco Malfoy."

"Sit, Willow. So, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to be British. How did you meet our daughter?"

Willow slid into the booth, dragging him in after her, her hand coming to rest stressfully on his knee.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm from England; my family manor is outside of Bath."

"So you must have met Willow while she was away for the exchange program. We hadn't realized she returned."

He nodded. "We only just arrived a few days ago."

Shelia frowned, narrowing her eyes. "And you only now decided to call."

"Mom!"

"It's not like you likely noticed she was gone." Draco growled out.

Ira cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. "What do you study? And what are you planning to do with your degree?"

Mindful of the grip on his leg, trying to rein his temper, he thought for a moment. "I'm studying economics, and plan to take over the family business when I get older."

Willow looked at him, at her mother and finally back at him. Shelia patted her perfect bun and straightened her suit coat. "And what might your family business be?"

A slightly feral grin twisted the corners of his mouth. "A little bit of this and that. My family has diversified its interests in the past few hundred years so that our fingers are in everyone's cauldrons." He bit back the flinch when his wife's fingernails dug through the thin material of his pants.

He was actually becoming rather fond of his new wardrobe, and had spent the better part of the morning trying on different outfits for Willow, loving her reactions. For a business lunch with her parents he went for a v-necked cashmere sweater in midnight blue and a pair of khakis. He was rather pleased with the results, but not, however, with the murderous thoughts Willow was sending his way. He straightened the smirk into a semblance of a real smile and picked up the menu. "So what do you recommend?"

They perused the menu briefly, and ordered when the waiter came back to the table. Grateful for even the momentary lapse in conversation, Willow met her mother's eyes. Shelia made no expression as she picked up her drink once more, sipping carefully.

"So, Mr. Malfoy, what exactly is your relationship to our daughter?"

He stayed silent, waiting for Willow to respond. She thought for a moment and reached her hand across the table, tilting her fingers so that the ruby shone in the candle light. "My fiancee."

Both of her parents leaned forward and looked at the ring. Neither one, however, offered a word of congratulations. Shelia turned to her husband and stage whispered, "See, Ira. I told you the lesbianism was just a phase."

Ira nodded, "I knew if we just let her little experimentation run its course, she'd see the light and leave that Tara person."

Draco was looking at them with shocked bemusement, but it was nothing compared to the anguish he felt from Willow. She withdrew her hand from the table and grabbed his leg again. He ran his fingertips over the back of her hand soothingly, but knew it wouldn't make much difference. "A phase, Mother?"

"Yes, Willow. College students often feel the need for experimentation. You worked through your rebellion, even though it took longer than we thought."

Green eyes wide, Willow leaned forward, her voice carefully neutral. "It was not a phase. I loved- love- her with every ounce of my being."

Ira waved his hand, "Then why aren't you with her? If you loved her that much, what changed?"

Stuttering with indignation, Willow took a deep breath. "Tara was shot and killed in front of me. Last summer, one of the reasons I went to study in England. Otherwise we'd still be together."

"But you don't seem to be dating women anymore. All of a sudden, like magic, poof 'you're cured'?" Shelia evidenced no concern for the fate of Willow's girlfriend, treating her death merely as a stepping stone in a case profile.

The red headed witch almost laughed. "Yes, I suppose it was magic. Just like that, Draco cast a spell and I fell madly in love." She rolled her eyes, purposefully ignoring the smug smile on the wizard's face. "You remember magic, don't you?"

Ira and Shelia exchanged blank looks. "I'm sorry Willow, but we don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Mom and Dad. You can't tell me you honestly don't remember trying to burn me at the stake."

"You must be exaggerating Willow, though we remember that rebellious phase as well. You believed that pretending magic was real would get you the attention you wanted. When that didn't work, you confessed to dating a musician. It really was a terribly childish thing for you to have done."

Now Willow was laughing in earnest, a desperate, dreadful sound. Draco leaned back, crossing his arms on his chest. "So you don't believe her. Did you ever take the time to ask her about her life, find out if any of it was real?"

They turned their gaze his way, and Ira shook his head. "Don't tell me you've been taken in by her wild tales, son. We raised her to only believe what you can prove. There is no proof to this claim of 'magic', and it's embarrassing to have her continue to maintain its veracity. We always believed her to be more intelligent than that."

Willow leaned to her right, picking up her bag. She pulled two pieces of snapped wood out and onto the table. Draco arched an eyebrow, surprised to see his wand sitting in the middle of lunch dishes, but said nothing. Willow looked at him, searching his silver eyes, and nodding when she felt his response.

"You want proof? Here." She lined the broken parts of the wand up and held her palm over them. She took a breath to center herself and smiled a bit when a faint blue glow emanated from her palm. The ends knitted back together quickly and smoothly, until there was no sign of the original break. She lifted it up in front of her parent's shocked faces. "One repaired wand. Here you go, sweetie, I thought you might want that back."

Draco grinned and accepted it gratefully. Shelia sputtered, for the first time losing control of the conversation. She blinked and pointed her finger at her daughter. "What are you!? That's not normal. It's not normal, is it, Ira?"

Ira looked at his only child as if she had crawled out from underneath a particularly unpleasant rotting log. "No. No, it's not."

"Mom, Dad, I'm a witch. I have been since before you tried to burn it out of me, or tried to dismiss it as a phase. It's not a phase; it's who I am. Draco is a wizard as well, and that was his wand I repaired."

Obligingly, he swished and flicked, and the salt shaker danced across the tablecloth. Shelia uttered a small shriek and swatted at it with her napkin. "Get that thing away from me! Ira, do you think Raoul still runs that clinic down in Ventura? Perhaps he can find time for an appointment for Willow and her… friend."

"I am not crazy, Mom, neither is Draco. This is who we are. Can't you accept that?"

Her father wrapped a comforting arm around her mother's shoulders. "No Willow, we can't. This is unacceptable behavior, and you know it! How dare you threaten us in this manner!"

"What? No, I'm not threatening anyone! I just want you to see what I can do." Pleading with her eyes, Willow leaned against Draco as he pulled her closer. She could feel the tears brimming, but she refused to acknowledge the hurt.

Stiff and unyielding, her parents glared at her. "You can't do anything to us; we refuse to accept this." Sheila's voice was harsh and garnered looks from the nearest tables.

Willow saw and cocked her head. "Careful, Mother, you're causing a scene. I know how much you hate that."

"How dare you speak to your mother that way!" Ira hissed, careful to modulate his voice.

"How dare I? I dare because you never acted like my mother, and as soon as you could get away with it, you abandoned me to this hellish town. Did you ever once wonder why you hadn't heard from me for months? Why I disappeared off to England in the first place; why I never stopped to say goodbye?!?" She was breathing heavily, and the dark of her pupils spread outward. Her mother glared, not remotely repentant. Willow relaxed with effort, pulling her magic back inside. "You know what? I'm going back to England tomorrow with Draco. Don't expect a wedding invitation."

"Why you ungrateful-"

Willow raised her hand, stalling Sheila's outburst. "Don't. It's not worth it for either of us. I just wanted to know what you'd do if you really looked at me. And I guess I know." She turned sad eyes to Draco and motioned with her head. "Go on. I know it's been killing you."

Draco grinned, cold and hard, teeth flashing. "Drs. Rosenberg, I must say what an informative meeting. I am so grateful I could make your acquaintance." He glanced at Willow, who nodded. He raised his wand. "Obliviate!" In the puff of green smoke, the witch and wizard stood, walking quickly away from the table. Her parents were still blinking with confusion by the time she reached the host, hands trembling.

As Willow seemed unable to speak, Draco handed the man a wad of bills and spoke softly. "Please tell the Rosenbergs that their daughter will not be joining them for lunch. They may be a bit confused, so bring them another drink." The manager nodded, having seen much stranger things in his years in Sunnydale, and calmly ordered another round at the bar.

They stalked out into the daylight. Draco lovingly caressed his wand before sliding it into his rear pocket. He turned to find the redhead staring blankly out into the street, not seeing any of the cars or passersby. He pulled her to him, wrapping her close in his arms, her head on his chest. Willow promptly burst into tears.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"There, that should do it. Is there anything else?" Draco turned, holding up another miniaturized suitcase. "You sure your parents won't notice a missing set of luggage?"

She shook her head. "No. If they didn't notice I was missing for months, I'm pretty sure my old suitcases won't raise an eyebrow. Here, take this photo album and put it in with that set of old spell books." He did as requested, watching her carefully from beneath his eyelashes.

"Are you doing alright, Firestarter? You look…"

"Tense? Tired? Frustrated?" She huffed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Before, when I left, it was all 'kaplooey' and I was gone. Now, not so much. I actually get to choose what comes with me and it's… well… harder than I thought."

She looked around at the mess Buffy's old room had become, pile of clothes, books, knickknacks, and photos. Draco had already packed up his new purchases into the trunks he bought for the occasion, and now they were merely sorting through Willow's belongings to see what would fit best, or what she thought was important to bring back to his world. The spellbooks were a definite yes, seeing as how the didn't resemble a single spellbook Draco had ever seen. The clothes and 'life junk', as she called it, were a bit harder to sort.

The circles under her eyes had only darkened after the meeting with her parents, and as she lifted one pile of shirts and set them aside, Draco was almost convinced he could still see a few tears glistening on her eyelashes. He wished he'd hexed her parents into next week, instead of settling for the rather petty memory spell that only left them disoriented and forever wondering the fate of their wayward daughter. Then again, if they really cared, they could always ask Xander. Somehow he doubted they would.

She looked exhausted, he noted. They'd apparated straight from the alley by the restaurant to her parents' house. Willow went through her belongings fairly rapidly, and they brought all her treasured childhood belongings back to the Summers' house. There, they'd unpacked all of the boxes from her time with Tara, as well as her college things. Willow had deliberately not looked through the photo albums or yearbooks, stuffing them into suitcases and trunks unopened. She left most of her clothes in the closet, reasoning that whatever she needed for clothing, she would pick up in the wizarding world. Now they were almost finished and it was time to go downstairs, explain the spells to allow them to return, and say goodbye.

With one last sigh, she sealed the last bag, handing it to him to miniaturize. As he did so, she changed back into the robes she had been wearing the night she arrived and handed him his cloak. He dropped the tiny sets of luggage and trunks into the voluminous pockets and stood, reaching for her hand.

They walked down the stairs in silence, meeting the Scoobies somberly. Giles, Anya, Buffy, Spike Xander and Dawn were waiting, standing awkwardly. Willow halfheartedly smiled and stepped forward, setting a small bag on the coffee table.

"Here are all the things you need to open a transport portal like Draco used to come through. I've set the location to be wherever I am, so all you have to do is drink up and, well, will yourself to me." Giles raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It got him here, didn't it!" Draco coughed and looked at the floor.

Giles peered briefly in the bag, noting the bottles and talismans and nodded. "Alright, Willow. If we need you, we'll drink up and come visiting. You mentioned that Anya could find you as well?"

Both Draco and Willow nodded, and Draco said, "Yes. If she can follow either one of our magical signatures and she gets close enough, this will call to us." He handed her a gold galleon. "It's enchanted to set off a 'beep' thing in Willow's earring that only she can hear. It also gives her your location, so we can come right to you." Anya's eyes lit up as the heavy gold coin hit her palm and she pocketed it happily.

They stood, the eight of them, for a moment in silence, none wanting the moment to continue. After a breath, however, Buffy reached forward and wrapped Willow in a hug. "Come back sometime."

Willow nodded, unable to speak. Xander grabbed her next, spinning her around and dropping her in front of Giles who sighed and pulled her into a hug, patting her hair. Spike reached out his hand and shook Draco's heartily, grinning as he squeezed just a little too hard. Draco smothered his wince. Anya patted him on the back, Dawn hugged him, and Xander stopped glaring long enough to shake his hand as well.

Awkwardly, as if she was afraid of rejection, Willow mumbled softly. "I'll miss you all. I promise I'll try to return someday. And…thanks. For saving me."

Buffy laughed, without rancor, and threw up her hands. "Yeah, well, trust you to ruin a good rescue. Next time, stay rescued, damn it!" Willow smiled and reached for Draco with one hand and grasped a bottle with the other. Draco did the same and popped the cork. They looked at each other, but before they could tilt the glass to their lips, Dawn jumped forward, embracing Willow tightly.

"I forgive you," she whispered into Willow's hair before she released her and stepped back.

Smiling now, Willow nodded at her husband and they both drank down the contents. Fire burned through their veins as sparks flickered on their skin. The bits of light swirled faster with each agonizing second, becoming brighter and brighter until they were engulfed in glittering golden-red flames. A nauseating, painful jerk tumbled them forward through space and time, dimensions bled by in liquid form, and with a sharp yank, the fire died down.

Trembling still, Willow cautiously blinked her eyes and looked around. Then she screamed.


Chapter 31

The hallway echoed with sharp footsteps; the stomps ricocheting from suits of armor and stone walls were only partially muffled by tapestries. It was late, much later than he expected, and Severus Snape was in a foul mood. Not merely a foul mood, a royally foul mood, and even Peeves knew to stay out of his way. Idle though the threat to dismember him with a hatchet might have been Snape still knew how to do an exorcism.

Cloak billowing behind him, the dark haired potions master halted in front of his doorway and uttered the passwords in an altogether exhausted tone of voice. He slumped inside and dropped his cloak on the nearest armchair, sliding down into the one opposite immediately thereafter.

There was a small pop and Lala the house elf stood in front of him, balancing a tea tray. Her huge, luminescent eyes looked up at him and she said, "Master Snape, Lala has brought you some tea and other delicious goodies to perk you up. Master Snape is too tired…" she trailed off and set the tray on the small table to the left of the chair. She wiggled her nose and the fire started up in the grate. Snape offered her a wisp of a smile before taking a steaming cup of tea and clenching it tight.

"Thank you, Lala. The tea is wonderful. Orange Pekoe, is it not? One of my favorites." The elf bobbed her head and vanished. Snape sighed, swirling the cup to cool it slightly. He was more tired than he could remember being in years, since the last time he worked as full capacity as a spy. But even that wasn't so draining; he could separate his two lives effectively enough that he could pull together some semblance of peace in the down times.

But now? He was so muddled and confused that even when he was just Severus in his rooms, he could feel the echoes buzzing on his skin, twisting his mind into despair that it would never end. That he'd be trapped in this mélange of lives forever. His knuckles on the porcelain showed white and tight. He relaxed them with effort and slipped one ghostly hand inside his robes. He drew out a small gold hourglass and loosed the chain from his neck. He weighed it carefully before setting it aside next to the plate of biscuits.

He glanced to the clock on the mantle and was surprised to see it was only 12:30 in the morning. He felt it should be much later, at least as late as the ethereal fleeting predawn light. In a way it was, but only in his strained and bent body.

He was too old for this. He should have said no. He should have let Dumbledore ask someone else. He laughed harshly before taking a sip of the tea, relishing the warmth. But he didn't want anyone else to know. This was his secret, his Willow to protect, and he didn't want to share. Possessive? Probably, but he also didn't want to endanger anyone else. Not even Malfoy. If anyone had found out where they had gone and let it slip, he didn't know if he could live with what might happen.

No, it was better this way, to keep the illusion going. It was killing him moments at a time, but for her, it was worth it. Malfoy too, in his own way. He was beginning to have a grudging respect for the boy. He'd pulled off a magical coup unheard of for hundreds of years. That meant, at least, that he had untapped an unrealized magical potential lurking behind those silver eyes. Perhaps he took more after Narcissa than he previously believed.

Little Malfoy the bully certainly seemed Lucius's handiwork. The cruel gleam in his eye, the biting comments, the taunting, it was all classic Malfoy the elder. Then again, he couldn't fault him for taunting Potter. It was all Severus could do some days not to join in, but he was the teacher after all. Self control was important. He took another sip of tea and contemplated the biscuits.

The fire cracked loudly and he almost jumped a bit before relaxing back into the chair once again. As difficult and cruel his own father had been at times, at least he hadn't been either Lucius or James. Thank Merlin. He had bestowed upon his son the nose and hair he was renowned for, however. Maybe all little boys were fated to spend a portion of their time as children reliving their fathers existences. At least both Potter and Malfoy junior were better than their fathers. Small mercies.

Even though the tea had cooled to tepid, he still sat in front of the fire. The flickering flames were mildly hypnotic and for the moment let him forget about pressing worries. Nestling deeper into the leather chair he closed his eyes. He was still going to shower before bed, but it felt good to relax, to pretend that there was nothing more in his life than there was a year ago. That there was no Willow Roseberg, that Draco Malfoy hadn't suddenly become something other than 'irritating student', that Voldemort hadn't resurfaced, that he hadn't annihilated a family not two days ago in Bath. Three small children under the age of six, both parents, and a grandmother. Muggle or not, they were still people, and they deserved protection from the wizarding world from one of its own.

But they were still no closer to finding a solution, or finding Voldemort for that matter. The papers called it an 'imitation massacre', something that one of Voldemort's supporters did to curry favor from a long lost leader. Severus knew better, and in their heart of hearts, many in the magical community did as well. But they still willed themselves to believe the lies, and he was trapped in the school playing a role that may or may not help in the end. If it did, then it gave them an edge that the Dark Wizard may not expect. If it didn't… well, then Severus would do it anyway, in the memory of her.

He hoped to whatever spirits were listening that he wasn't pushing on in vain, that she was coming back, even if it wasn't back to him. He opened his eyes again and surveyed the sitting room. Dark and light in an unbalanced mix, the shadows playing in the corners watching him out of inky eyes did nothing to reassure him. With a groan, he set the teacup down and wandered his way into the bedroom, shedding his clothes to the bed, not willing to expend the extra energy to throw them into the hamper. Stripped of its coverings, his skin shivered and he rubbed his arms to generate warmth while he ran the water for a shower. His fingers subconsciously avoided the dark mark on his arm, but he knew it was there. He could never forget, never dismiss the subtle pain of everyday, nor the sharp pain that let him know how pleased his former master was at the turn of events a few days previous.

At the edge of his vision he could see the small crystal he placed on the bedside stand. It was a tracking marker for Malfoy's progress. It changed colors depending on his personal well being, much like some of the wizarding families used clocks and clockhands to indicate where the family members were and what they were up to. He'd set it to the young wizard before he left, not bothering to let him know he was being tracked. He didn't figure that Draco would have particularly liked the idea. The crystal was glowing a faint yellow green when Severus stepped into the shower.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the water hit his hair. Yellow green was a sight better than the flaming red orange he had seen when he sent the boy away into the ether, into a fate that no one could really predict. Red orange was the color of moral peril, and Severus had almost lost hope that first night. But when he had looked again later, the crystal had dulled to an orangeish yellow. Not good, certainly, but better than imminent death. Where ever he was wasn't safe, but at least he hadn't nearly died any time after that. Granted, it had never settled into full green of tranquil peace either. It must be a rough world that Willow was called to.

He shut off thoughts of Malfoy and death and concentrated on lathering his hair. He seemed to always be lathering his hair since she left. He didn't know why her question about the status of his locks had touched him so, but if she'd like to see him with gleaming hair like a raven's wing, he'd do his best. It was ridiculous really, since he knew he didn't have a chance against an Anima Conligato bond, but the effort made him feel better somehow. If he was going through the effort of making himself sparkly clean, that would mean she would have to come back and see it.

Rolling his eyes at his own flight of fancy, he turned his attention to the rest of his body, scrubbing and sluicing, relishing the feel of the water on his scalp like thousands of tiny massaging fingers. Eventually though, he was too tired to hold himself up any longer, and he shut off the water. He towel dried his hair and body, wrapping the emerald green towel around his waist. He shook his hair back from his face, grimacing at how long it had become, past his shoulders now. He'd have Lala take some scissors to it in the morning.

Yawning mightily, he wandered back into the bedroom. He was weighing the options of finding sleepwear versus sleeping in the nude and turning up the fire when he happened to glance at the tracking crystal. He'd pulled the towel from his body and held it in one hand, the other outstretched to pick up the now mauve crystal. He held it up, inches from his face.

"Mauve? What is that supposed to mean? I don't remember any-"

Golden flames erupted in the middle of Severus Snape's bedroom. They swirled around him with reddish sparks and he closed his eyes against the sharp pain of bright lights. Before he could open them and recover his vision, however, he heard screaming- right next to his head. He blinked and discovered two faces ridiculously close to his, one framed in red hair and the other in short, white blonde hair. His brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, unfortunately, and instead of realizing what was happening, he jumped a foot in the air and fell backwards, arms flailing, legs tripping and barely danced his way upright again.

By this time, Willow had her hand covering her mouth, stifling the startled scream of fright from seeing an unknown person's face mere inches from her own and her eyes widened in embarrassment. Draco had his wand out, waving at nothing since he still hadn't blinked away the last of the sparks.

"What! Where! Firestarter, are you alright?"

Willow let out a high giggle and covered her eyes now, pointing at a rather confused and bemused Snape standing buck naked in the middle of his bedroom. "Dangly bits, oh Goddess, dangly bits!" She flushed bright red and turned completely around. Draco finally recovered his vision and sputtered loudly; his jaw dropped wide open.

Severus, whose exhausted brain finally grasped what was going on, snagged the discarded towel from the floor and wrapped it around his waist once more. He arched an eyebrow as serenely as he could manage completely ignoring the fact that he had been hopping around his room like a crane on ecstasy only moments before.

Draco's eyebrows climbed up his forehead and he whirled around, facing Willow. "Lickable!?!"

Willow punched his arm weakly. "Shut up."

"Merlin's beard, you think he's lickable!" He turned to an even more overwhelmed Snape. "She thinks you're lickable! You're old- and a teacher- and my relative!" He spun back to Willow. "You cannot think he is lickable. I forbid it."

Snape finally found his tongue and responded lazily. "Oh, I don't know, Malfoy, I think lickable is an entirely appropriate adjective."

Willow sank to her knees. "I am not here. I am not hearing this. Get out of my head."

"Oh I don't think so. What other fascinating tidbits are you going to shout into my mind? I am downright salivating to hear what else you have to say." He crossed his arms across his chest and snarled. Willow snapped her head up to look him in the eyes.

Draco watched without reaction as her eyes flooded with black and she hissed, "I can think whatever I want."

Snape took this moment to step between them both. "All right, children, we can all call each other names later. I, for one, would love to know what you've been doing for the last three days."

Willow let out a breath and her eyes returned to normal. Draco relaxed his posture and leaned down to pull the redhead to her feet. "Right-o, Professor. Let's all play show and tell." He followed the dark haired wizard to the sitting room where Snape pulled three chairs together by the fire after stopping to don a pair of flannel pajama bottoms he'd retrieved from the dresser.

With the three of them sitting, Snape reheated the teapot with a touch of the wand and conjured two more cups. He offered it to the others; Willow accepted, Draco did not. Teacups in hand, Snape gestured for them to continue. Willow glanced at the silver haired wizard and at his nod, began.

"I was called home again to Sunnydale. My friends found a way to get me back and used a spell to find me and bind me. I was only there a few hours when Draco popped into the middle of Buffy's living room. This prompted an explanation about who everyone was, with some people handling it better than others. Draco wasn't pleased to discover himself in the company of Muggles, demons and vampires so he took a walk- right into a hunting pack of vampires. He was nearly lunch, but Buffy saved him. After that, well, his wand was broken, so we didn't leave immediately. I had to take care of some things with my friends and family, but they understand me a bit better now. We gave them a way to contact us and came back. That's pretty much it." Draco scowled at the mention of his near dinner experience, but didn't interrupt.

Listening carefully, Snape watched both Willow and Draco closely. Willow's posture indicated that her adventure back home was considerably more stressful than she let on, but whatever she wasn't saying must have been private, or Draco would have added his two knuts worth. He nodded gravely and started to speak. He took another sharp glance at Draco and exclaimed, "What happened to your head?"

The coyote touched his face with the faded bruises and grimaced. "Those would be from the vampires she mentioned."

Snape shook his head. "No, I mean, your hair! And what're those things in each of your ears? They look like earrings… is this some sort of Muggle thing?"

Draco and Willow both laughed then. "Oh, Draco decided to show me how comfortable he was with my heritage so he went for a makeover with Dawn and Anya. You should see some of the other stuff he brought back. Leather is definitely his look."

The potions master blinked. "Leather? Muggle clothing?" He squinted. "Are you sure you're Draco Malfoy?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Draco responded softly, "The things we do for love."

Snape's face turned stony at that. "Yes indeed." The silence was tense between them until Willow spoke up.

"How did we end up nose to nose with you anyway?"

Snape frowned, embarrassed. "Well, I set the return spell to come to me. I guess I didn't understand exactly what that meant. I believed it to be general vicinity, not right on top of me. Though, that would explain what the mauve meant."

"Mauve?" Draco muttered to himself, still glaring at the dark wizard.

Smiling at the explanation, Willow continued, "So what's been going on here? Did everyone miss us?"

Snape sipped his tea and said slowly, "No, they didn't."

"Why?"

"Because you went home for a family emergency, Willow, and you, Mister Malfoy, didn't go anywhere."

They both blinked at that. Draco leaned forward. "What do you mean, I didn't go anywhere?"

Snape smiled then, an exhausted, proud grin. "You fell ill after dinner the night you left and have been confined to your quarters. Your friends have seen you every evening, checking on your progress. The lingering illness is supposed to be stress and overwork combined with a good old fashioned flu." Now he grimaced. "Though I'm delighted that you've returned since your mother will be flooing in tomorrow to check on you."

"What? How?"

Snape picked up the golden hourglass from the table. "It's a bit complicated. Dumbledore didn't want anyone to know what happened to you, not even the other teachers. He asked if I would be willing to revise my role as a spy, albeit in a slightly different capacity." He looked straight at Malfoy, then, watching the reaction in his silver eyes. "For the past three days, I have been both you and me. A little polyjuice potion and the judicious use of a time turner had me looking like you when and where your friends expected to see you. I must say, that Parkinson is just as dreadful after hours as she is in the classroom. At least Bullstrode keeps her mouth shut."

They gaped at him. Draco fell back. "You were me? That's… so… invasive." He glared at the older wizard. "I find out that people were writing intimate details of my life and selling them for profit. As if that isn't enough, I come back and find out someone else is living my life." He swirled his hand around. "I don't know how much more I can take of this."

Willow laid her hand on her lover's. "Severus. You mentioned his mother was coming tomorrow. Do you know why?"

He shook his head. "No, but Albus did send her a letter detailing your illness. She responded expressing her concern and her desire to see you two days from then if you weren't better. That would be tomorrow."

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hand. Willow nodded. "And me? When was I expected back?"

"Two days from now. You could show up early, but everyone is expecting you then. It may be best not to draw any undue attention to yourself. Things have been… unsettled here recently."

Willow's face twisted up in thought. "Well, I could just hide in my rooms."

Snape snorted. "House elves are discreet, but they're not that discreet." He thought for a moment himself. "Actually, you could stay here. The only elf that sees to my chambers is Lala. She's my personal house elf; she serves the Snape family, not Hogwarts in general."

When Willow looked as if she was considering this, Draco snapped out of his haze. "Hell no! Not after she decided you look lickable."

"Threatened?" Snape smirked. Draco scowled.

"No."

"Then what's the problem, sweetie?" Willow turned to him then, gripping both hands. "I don't think Severus is going to jump me in the middle of the night, so what's the worry?" Draco glared in his direction. Snape smirked wider.

"Nothing. You do whatever you want."

Willow smiled sadly before nodding to Snape. "Sure. I guess we can do that. Draco can go back to his rooms using the inner house floo, right?" Snape nodded. "Can I go see him in and be right back? I promise if I see even one house elf ear tip I'll be back in a flash."

Snape grunted. "Fine. Mister Malfoy, my memories of my time as you are stored in a pensive at the bottom of your wardrobe. Please look over my exchanges with your friends so as too 'refresh your memory' when they come to look in on you tomorrow. Please try to remember to act stressed and ill. See if you can do something about those bruises, and perhaps you can say you cut your hair because the fever was bothering you. I leave that explanation to you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I can manage that one; I'm not a complete bleeding idiot."

Snape glared back. "Yes, well, that remains to be seen." He waved his hand. "Be back soon," he addressed Willow. She nodded and followed Draco into the fire. Severus watched them go, then stood, casing around the room. "Where to put an extra bed… do I need to add a small room? I can transfigure that small storage closet into something larger, perhaps with some feather pillows…" He muttered on to himself as he began to work.

Continue

Return To Fiction By Title