The Eighth Weasley

By Fyre

Chapter 26: Toil & Trouble

Willow had never been more terrified in her life.

Hellmouths opening and in need of her to close them she could deal with. Newly-risen vampires to be staked - not a problem. Werewolfy boyfriends charging at her with the intention of ripping her throat out, easy!

Today, though...

Her timetable had been arranged so that she would be able to attend some classes with the first years, especially for Transfiguration, in which she needed to learn the basics, and thanks to a clash, she had missed her first potions lesson with the rest of the beginners.

So now, instead of being in with the rest of the first years - they had been in potions and she had been given additional private lessons in charms, so she could actually use her wand properly - she was having a one-on-one tutorial.

One-on-one with Snape, he of the notorious reputation.

Willow could feel what colour she had seeping from her features at the thought of being in a room alone with the man who seemed to do nothing but gaze at her in a way that made her feel like a rat on a table for dissection.

Yes, Hermione insisted that Snape wasn't as bad as he pretended to be with the glaring and ominous whispers, but that was all very well for a top grade student, who had had a group of classmates to back her up.

Her roommate had conveniently forgotten that Willow would be in the creepy class in the dungeon, on her own with the Professor, with no friends or people to back her up or whisper the solutions to her.

Standing in the dark hallway outside the potions room, Willow whimpered, her arms laden down with all her supplies, which she had brought just in case she needed all or any of them.

Even the hallway was creepy.

A few flickering torches shone on the bleak black columns, but for the most part, they just served to make the shadows look even darker and gloomier.

Reluctantly, she raised a shaking hand and tapped on the door with her knuckles, a gusty draught whipping her robes around her legs. She shivered, not liking the fact that the dungeons were so cold.

How could they be so cold, she wondered, when people always had fires under their cauldrons down here?

She was still glancing around the quiet, dark and draughty hallway, pondering on the origins of the chilly wind, when the door swung open and - unconsciously - she took a nervous step back.

He loomed over her, head and shoulders taller than she was, his face expressionless and pale, his black eyes glittering. One hand braced against the doorframe, his robes spread around him making him look so much more imposing and terrifying up close than he had during the Sorting.

"Ah," She could hear the sneer, even though the backlighting almost concealed the curling of his upper lip. "The famous lost Weasley." Sweeping back into the room, he didn't even look back to check that she was following.

She took the chance to glance around the dungeon and yes, it was as scary as she had been prepared to expect.

The roof was not nearly as high as roofs elsewhere in the castle and it was arched in a very Gothic style. There were only a few narrow windows at the very top of the furthest wall, which hardly allowed any light in.

Dull lamps hung randomly along the ceiling, most of them glowing a very dull yellowish colour, hardly adding any light to the dim afternoon light ebbing through the windows.

Snape was sweeping past four rows of desks that crossed the room from left to right, each one occupied by a small wooden stool. Every one of the dark wooden desks was empty now, except the one at the very front of the room, a few paces from the teacher's desk.

"It is reassuring to see you didn't manage to get yourself lost again, as you so efficiently did, when you were scheduled to have a potions class last week." His voice was a low murmur that reminded her of the sound of a cauldron simmering with the possibility of coming to the boil at any moment.

"Um...I-I-I..." Stumbling after him, her robes catching on her legs as she tried to keep a hold of her bag and shut the door at the same time, she turned around to find those eerie black eyes on her face again. "I...uh...I..."

"How very eloquent you are." His hand unfurled in the direction of the table at the front of the class. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I don't have all day while you stand there mumbling."

"I-I-I had to do ex-extra charms stuff." She muttered, making her way nervously forwards to the table he had indicated, where a single plain cauldron the same size as her own one stood, a green flame flickering beneath it. Snape's eyes suggested whatever excuse she was about to make wouldn't be anywhere near good enough for him. "They... I mean, Professor McGonagall...she said...I mean, I would have come with the rest of them but they thought that I..."

"Miss Weasley," His voice was that notorious, barely-audible whisper she had heard so much about. "I would greatly appreciate if you would be silent, as much of a challenge as you may find it."

"Sure...I can be quiet. I mean, yeah. I was always quiet at high school and it said so on every report..." She trailed into silence at a look from Snape, tipping the contents of her arms onto the desk. He glanced at it, a brow rising in a silent question. "Oh! I didn't know what to bring, so I just brought everything so I..." Her expression was one of anguished unease. "Um...is that wrong?"

"What might this be?" One hand lifted her cauldron out of the pile of bottles and bags, studying it with a smirk on his lips. "My, my, Miss Weasley. You certainly have extravagant taste. Such...crass decoration."

Willow felt a prickle of anger, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and irritation combined. "Well, then it's a good thing that it's my crass cauldron." She said defiantly, grabbing it off him, then mentally whimpering that he might take a hundred points from Gryffindor or something.

He did no such thing.

That frightening eyebrow rose again and he motioned to the desk. "Provide a flame if you will."

"Huh?"

"Miss Weasley," He murmured. "I heard such praises sang about your intelligence. I am afraid you are proving a great disappointment. You require a flame for your cauldron and I wish to see you provide one."

"O-oh!"

Her hand over the desk, she whispered the incantation for the conjuring of flame that she had first learned when she was seventeen, leaving a small, flickering ball of flame hovering above the counter, looking up nervously at Snape.

There was a note of defiant pride in her voice when she withdrew her hand. "There!"

"Very good, Miss Weasley. However, you did not use your wand." The right side of his mouth lifted in a smirk and she had the odd urge to smack him on the head with her cauldron. "Do it correctly, with your wand."

"But I..."

"I said," His voice was calm, quiet, like it had been before, but it was that cold calmness that made her feel uneasy. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression deadly. "Do it correctly. With your wand."

Grabbing her wand from the pocket of her robes, she dissipated the ball of flame with a gesture - not noticing the admiring look in Snape's eye at the wandless display of spell-casting - and pointed the wand.

"Inflammare!"

The whole table erupted in flames.

With a squeak of fright, she hastily used a wandless spell that she was more familiar with to send a surge of water down onto it, smoke and steam hissing and sizzling in the already-stuffy air of the dungeon.

As the smoke and steam cleared, Willow coughing, she found him standing where he had been before the desk decided to burn, his expression exactly the same, his arms still crossed over his chest.

When she finally stopped coughing, there was a long moment's silence.

Then, he quietly spoke three words in a tone of voice that made the witch want the floor to swallow her up, heat burning in her face as she stared at the desktop in pained embarrassment.

"How very...impressive."

***

"Once again, Miss Weasley, your over-inflated reputation is proving flawed."

Willow really, really wanted to throw something at the Snape's head. A hard, blunt something, with enough force to knock him unconscious so she could flee from the class and the humiliation.

"I added the shredded dandelions in like you said!" She protested, looking across the desk, but finding no one there and turning slightly, to find a hook-nosed face barely inches from her own.

With a yip of fright, she hastily turned her eyes back to the cauldron, wishing for the hundredth time that he would stay still.

Snape was hovering around her and had been since she had started to try and brew their first potion.

It was horribly disconcerting. One moment, he would be on the opposite side of the desk and out of reach, the next, he would be hissing remarks directly into her ear from right behind her.

It was also really starting to annoy her and she knew that if he didn't stop irritating her, she was really going to...

Well, she couldn't quite think of anything bad enough, but oh!

He was gonna get it!

"Yes, obviously." His voice was dry as he looked at the cauldron which was full and overflowing onto the blackened desktop. "You have an uncanny gift for adding far too much of everything required to your potions. What a generous person you are, Miss Weasley." His voice was a chilly breath in her ear and she shuddered, scowling. "How very...special."

The overflow of gloop had come from Willow jumping with fright whenever he had hissed an instruction in her ear, making her spill handfuls of various items into the small cauldron she was working with.

"If you'd stop being all breathe-down-the-back-of-my-robes-creepy-stalker-guy and distracting me, I wouldn't make so many mistakes!" She exclaimed in aggravation, whipping around to glare at him. "Go and stand somewhere that isn't near my neck!"

"Did you just...give me and order, Miss Weasley?"

Normally, rational-Willow would step in at this point, but rational-Willow was as wound up as cranky-Willow and when rational-Willow was no longer rational, there was a big problem in state of Willow-land.

"You bet I gave you an order, Mister!" She tapped him smartly in the middle of his chest. "Maybe you find all that lurking and looming and breathing on my neck all intimidating or sexy or something," Her words were punctuated with repeated jabs to his breastbone. "But the last time someone did that to me, I staked them with a number two pencil, so don't you try and-and-and be all scary, Mister! I have no fear!"

That was when rational-Willow came charging back to the fore and Willow gave an anguished whimper, staring up at Snape and hoping fervently that he wouldn't do something too nasty to her.

Snape was gazing down at her with those creepy dark eyes. His expression hadn't changed in the slightest, but she could sense - whoa! That couldn't be right, could it? - amusement rippling off him.

"Is that so, Miss Weasley?"

"It-it is!" She squeaked vehemently. "And...and..." She tried to think up something suitably scary and intimidating to do to him.

Again, that annoying eyebrow rose. "And what, Miss Weasley? You'll point and stammer at me? How very terrifying." He said, his lip curling again. "You ought to know that I have had Hufflepuff first years with more technical skill than you, although I must admit you do stammer as well as the best of them."

Willow was sure she felt something snap in her head and she pulled herself up to her full five foot three inches, her green eyes narrowing, her lips pursing, as she drew an angry breath and huffed it out again.

"Don't you curl your lip at me and sneer at me, Mister-I'm-all-dark-and-loomy-in-my-dungeon!" She wagged a finger in front of his face as rational-Willow backed back into her quiet corner, twitching in a heap. "From the minute that I got in here, you've been picking on me, even if there's no one to pick on me in front of and I don't think you're being fair on me, cos hello! Lived on a Hellmouth and don't know how things work! You're meant to be all helpy and stuff and showing me how I do things, not calling me names and insulting everything I do cos...cos that's not what teachers are for!"

"Miss Weasley, you are being rather outspoken. It's obvious your mother never put much stock in manners."

Willow gaped at him. She expected more of a reaction than that. And she had no manners? This was classed as rude?

"Don't you dare say that about my mom!" She cried out as she poked his chest again with one small finger, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "I'm SO not rude! You were the one who was being all rude and intimidating and loomy and-and-and I haven't done this before and it's unfair that you think I should know how to do everything and you don't even bother to tell me what I'm doing wrong and you breathe down my neck and-and-and make me drop stuff and burn stuff and now look!" She huffed an angry breath out her nose. "You've made me all cranky and I really wanna be able to-to-to..." Fishing around for want of a better word, she pointed an angry white finger at him. "Poof you!"

The raising of the brow once more suggested she could have come up with a better threat. After all 'thump-poof' probably only really made sense to someone who had been in the Scoobies and Snape had definitely never been one of them.

"Poof me?" He inquired, doing that slow crossing-of-arms thing that she was told he did when he was getting angry, his voice not giving anything away, although she was still getting that odd sensation of mirth from him.

Taking a nervous step back, her butt colliding with the edge of the desk, she blinked up at him. "Uh...yeah...poof you..."

"Miss Weasley," He was still gazing down at her with that odd glitter in his black eyes. "Judging on your abysmal performance this afternoon, I sincerely doubt your abilities to tamper with my sexual preference."

"Eep!" The squeak came out both audibly and mentally, the youngest Weasley going beet-red, as she suddenly remembered why she was told never to mention the 'p' word while at Hogwarts. "That's not what I meant!"

Much to her surprise, what looked like an actual, genuine, amused smile crept onto Snape's lips. "Indeed," was all he said, before sweeping back around to the other side of the desk.

When he turned back to face her on the opposite side of charred desk, the smile had gone, replaced with the smirk she was more familiar with and she felt a tiny bit reassured by it.

Reassured by him smirking instead of smiling...

Now that was just wiggy.

***

The immense doors of the Great Hall swung open and crashed against the wall with unnecessary force, every eye of every student and most of the teachers turning to see what all the fuss was about.

After all, meal times usually proved to be entertaining.

This time looked to be no exception.

Several of the Gryffindors knelt up on their seats, craning up, trying to see beyond the Hufflepuff table, whispers passing down the tables about just what was going on and who was at the doors.

Willow Weasley was stomping determinedly down the central aisle towards the teachers table, between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, her expression on her face only describable as a 'resolve' face.

Her lips were pursed, small wrinkles of determination visible on her forehead, her hands balled in clenched fists by her sides.

Her black robes were singed and splattered with various substances, her long sleeves of her black robes, grey sweater and white shirt all rolled up over her elbows, the front sections of her hair pulled up in a scruffy ponytail on the top of her head.

At the teacher's table, some of the students noticed Snape sit up a little, a smirk coming onto his lips. Professor Granger also shifted in her seat, glancing from Willow to Snape and back, a look of worry on her face.

She knew that Willow hadn't returned from her Potions class, which she had been at from two o'clock that morning - nearly five hours earlier - and, when she had hunted down and confronted Snape in the staff room, asking where Willow was, he had just smirked and strolled away.

Something suggested that she was about to find out just what had been going on.

Ignoring all the eyes on her, although her face had flushed a deep scarlet, which suggested that she knew she was being observed, Willow resolutely stalked down the length of the room, her chin raised proudly.

Professor Dumbledore looked like he was torn between standing up and asking what was troubling her or falling off his seat laughing at the determined expression on the girl's face.

It seemed like an eternity before she reached the head table, where all the teachers sat and stomped along the length of it, her eyes fixed on Snape in a blatant glare. He leaned back in his seat, still smirking.

Whispers and gasps were passing along the tables, the Gryffindor table in particular.

To see the eighth Weasley willingly going to face off with Professor Snape, the most frightening and intimidating teacher at Hogwarts was definitely not what they had expected as entertainment for the evening meal.

They weren't exactly going to turn down the chance to witness it, though.

When the youngest Weasley stopped directly in front of the Potions Master, a silence fell, so deep that you could have heard a pin drop, everyone in the Hall wondering just what was going on.

"Miss Weasley." Every single person present heard the lazy whisper.

Willow's hand plunged into the large canvas bag hanging from her right shoulder and several people rose up from their seats, clearly expecting her to curse him or something equally exciting!

However, her hand emerged holding a small selection of bottles.

"Shrinking potion." She put a clear bottle containing an acid green substance on the table in front of him. "Cure for boils." Another bottle was clapped down, followed by several more, each containing a different colour of liquid. "Skin conditioner. A mid-strength consciousness potion. A one minute dose of feather-light solution. Invisibility solution, temporary." The set of bottles continued to take up space on the table. "A single dose of freeze-flame. Thirty doses of draught of living death..."

The startled silence from several minutes before was rapidly being replaced with one of confusion and awe, as she continued to withdraw bottle after bottle from deep recesses in her bag.

Had she, the first year Weasley, made all those potions? Today?

Snape didn't look impressed, though. His expression was neutral, but for the derisive smirk that seemed to be locked in place.

No one outside Slytherin had ever got a positive reaction from Professor Snape before and everyone inside the Great Hall, teachers included, was sure that - no matter what the muggle-raised, famous Gryffindor Weasley tried - she wouldn't succeed in making him doing anything but sneer.

There was a silence, when Willow paused to gain her breath, a dozen little bottles standing in a little group in front of Snape.

"Oh!" She added, and only the teachers who were in her line of sight along the table saw the wickedly malicious glitter in her green eyes. "And I made this one especially for you, Professor Snape."

Everyone in the hall saw her withdraw a small bottle, which contained a substance that seemed to change colour from deep, swirling royal blue to a cloudy shade of pale pink and back again.

Looks were exchanged, even along the teachers table.

Clearly no one but the girl and the teacher had any idea what the substance was.

Every eye in the Hall went to Snape, whose regulation smirk seemed to be twitching slightly. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, but there was no mistaking what he was trying to cover up.

A smile.

Snape was trying not to smile.

Or laugh.

Since no one had ever seen such a thing before, it was difficult to decide which.

Even Dumbledore was regarding Willow and his Potions Master with a combination of amusement and consternation, as Snape's hands convulsively locked around the arms of the chair he was seated on.

Nothing had ever made the Potions Master reacted thus in many years and the Head Master couldn't decide if it was a good thing or not, because Snape looked like he was on the verge of a seizure.

He was really trying not to laugh.

Every person in the Hall could see it.

He was almost succeeding as well, although his face was going a little more purple than they were used to and his lips were pressed together that they were an even thinner line than even Professor McGonagall managed.

That is, until Willow pushed him over the edge.

Leaning forward, as she placed the tiny bottle right in front of him, she whispered sotto voce, with a wink. "Told ya I could poof ya."

A loud, echoing snort of laughter escaped the Potions Master, ringing off the silent walls of the Hall, one hand immediately clamping over his mouth in disbelief as if he couldn't believe he had just made that absurd sound.

Dumbledore cracked. He couldn't help it. The stunned expression on Snape's face was simply too much.

The mirth radiated out in waves, the other teachers - although uncertain of what had caused Snape's outburst - falling against one another at the look of embarrassed irritation on the severe Potions Master's face.

Smiling primly, Willow gathered up her bottles and replaced them in her bag. Her hand came out to the small bottle that she had placed directly in front of him, then paused. "I think I'll let you keep that one." She said.

That said, she turned and walked purposefully across to the Gryffindor table on the other side of the Hall, sitting down at her place and grabbing some food, flashing a grin up at Hermione, then along at Snape.

Neither of the two subjects of her looks seemed to know what to do or say, although Snape - once everyone had turned back to their meals - carefully drew the small bottle across the table and slipped it inside his robes.

Of course, only Willow noticed and smirked.

He sent a scowl in her direction, which was belied by an uncanny gleam in his eye.

For the first time since he had started teaching, he had found a pupil who was up to the challenge of facing him, despite her initial nervousness, and one who knew what she was doing, when left to her own devices.

A pupil who could produce high-quality potions without instruction. He knew, without even having to test them, that every potion she had produced for him in those neatly labelled little bottles was exact in it's content and consistency.

And she was a pupil, who had a sharp, biting sense of humour and a stubborn pride which had actually made him, the grimmest, most intimidating teacher in the school, laugh out loud.

In public.

By Merlin, he was really going to have to work hard to regain his composure after that slip.

Yet, it was rather...nice.

Once she had overcame her blatant terror and answered him back, once she had managed to ignore him breathing down her neck which was a trick very few of his students managed in their first day, if ever, once she had realised he wasn't about to punish her for daring to move, she had proved most adept.

Not that he wanted it to happen on a regular basis, but yes. He could come to appreciate the young Weasley, as long as she didn't try to hard to outdo him and earn a place on his black list.

She was definitely tolerable.

***

"What was that about?"

"He said that I sucked at potions. I showed him I didn't." Willow was sitting cross-legged on her broad bed, working on her Transfiguration homework, when Hermione entered their room.

Hermione deposited her own bag on the floor beside her desk, then approached Willow's bed. "You made all those potions?"

"Mmm-hmm." Willow didn't look up, making notes with her quill.

"But you made at least a dozen!" The other witch exclaimed, stunned. "How did you do it in the time you were at the lesson?"

"Conjured up lots of cauldrons and had them going at the same time. Once you get in a rhythm, it's not too hard." Willow finally looked up, grinning at her friend. "But you really wanna know what that blue and pink potion was that made the Crank-meister crack, don't you?"

Trying to feign disinterest, the older witch shrugged. "I was a little curious, since that seemed to be the one that...um...affected him the most."

The red head grinned and it was a wicked little grin. "I found it in a book of advanced potion-making I was reading when I was at home. It sounded funny so I remembered it. I never thought I'd have to use it, but he said something and I got SO annoyed with him that I had to make it. Just to prove to him I could do it. Just to see what he would do."

"What was it?"

"Doesn't matter..."

"Willow." Hermione's voice had taken on the severe, lecturing tone.

"It's nickname is gender-blender." Colour rose in Willow's cheeks, her eyes going back down to her homework.

"You WHAT?!? You made gender-blender?" Hermione squealed, her face going as pink as Willow's was, her hands clapping to her face. "Good grief, Willow! You do know that you made an alternate sexuality potion for Snape, don't you?"

The younger witch timidly lifted her head. "Um...well...I...uh...it made him laugh."

"And you wonder why?" Hermione spluttered.

"He said I couldn't...uh..." The red head went a deeper shade of red. "I wanted to prove that I could...ah...um..." Her voice sank to an mutter of embarrassment that Hermione barely heard. "Poof him."

Shaking her head, still leaning against the post of Willow's bed, the older witch chuckled, her brown eyes crinkled in amusement. "Willow, you are one of the oddest witches I have ever met."

"And that's why ya love me." Willow grinned up at her.

A strange, soft expression crossed Hermione's face and she smiled. "Yes, Willow, that must be it." She chuckled, then added. "You nut-case."

Willow just grinned.


Chapter 27: Wolves & Witches

"Okay...how about this? Make the feather float."

Gingerly, Willow pointed her wand at the white feather sitting on the Gryffindor table, peeking nervously through one half-closed eye as she tried, for the umpteenth time, to perform basic spells with her wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

At first nothing happened.

Then, slowly, it started to move...

It seemed like an eternity before it lifted off the dark wood of the table top, hovering several millimetres, before rising a little further.

"I did it!"

Unfortunately, the red head spoke to soon.

The feather, still floating, started to twitch in the air. Curls of black smoke started to ripple out from the stem of the feather.

"Oh crap..."

She felt a small hand on her arm and wisely took the wordless hint from the boy who had been helping her, both of them diving underneath the table a second before the feather exploded in a ball of flame.

Several people around the Great Hall screeched in surprise and fright, glaring at the edge of the table as Leon and Willow came back into line of sight, nervously peering around in case there was anything on fire around them.

"Okay...maybe I didn’t do it..."

Leon gave her a sympathetic grin. Ever since she had saved his life at their first flying lesson, the young Gryffindor had been trying his best to help her get her wand under her control.

Unfortunately for the red-haired witch, she simply had too much power of her own to combine it with the extreme power of the slayer’s hair, which provided the core for her willow wand.

"You just have to let the wand do the magic for you, instead of doing it yourself."

"But that’s the problem, Leon," she mumbled, sweeping the ash of her latest feather into a little mound on the surface of the table. "I’m used to doing the spells without the wand and now...why can’t they just let me learn the spells and do them my way?"

"You think you could?"

Willow withdrew another feather from her slightly scorched satchel and placed it on the table, gazing at it, as she said, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The curly white feather fluttered up into the air, Leon’s mouth falling open as he watched it rise. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them back up, blinking in astonishment.

"You-you did it!"

Willow grinned. "No, I didn’t," she said. "I cheated. That was mental levitation. I can do that without saying the words."

"Pardon?" Leon said weakly.

"Pick someone."

"Eh?"

"Point to someone."

The boy looked around the crowded Hall, wondering what she was about to do, then pointed towards Hermione Granger, the Professor of Muggle Studies, as she entered through the open doors.

A wicked grin spread across Willow’s face. "Watch," she suggested.

Leon nodded, then laughed as Granger - still walking down the aisle - simply seemed to walk up into thin air. She looked down at her feet that were definitely no longer on the floor, then - one hand on her hip - cocked her head at Willow.

"Miss Weasley, I believe you should put me down."

"What makes you think it was me?" Willow looked shocked, as Hermione started to revolve in a perfect circle in thin air.

"Well," the older witch remarked, as if there was nothing untoward about hovering several feet off the ground and spinning. "I doubt there is anyone in this hall who has as much mental control as you. You are performing a Yoda on me."

"The force is with me, huh?" The brown-haired witch was lowered back to her feet and continued walking as if nothing had happened. "I was just showing Leon what I can do without a wand."

"As long as you don’t test your swish and flick on me, I think I’ll cope," Hermione smiled, sitting down on the opposite side of the table. She glanced at the pile of ash in the middle of it. "I assume that means you’re still not having any success with controlling the wand?"

Willow’s forehead creased. "I don’t get it. I can do most of the transfigurationy stuff okay, but I can’t do the charms. Everything keeps going poof...but poof in a flaming-ball-of-fire-poof, not in a gay-little-man-poof..."

"Willow!"

The younger of the two witches blushed. "Um..."

His own cheeks burning a little, Leon looked from Willow to Hermione. "I-I-I think I might know why..." he mumbled nervously, clearing his throat several times. "I-I mean that...you...Willow, you’ve never done transfiguration or-or-or anything like that before, have you?"

"Not that I can remember."

"B-b-but you have done spells like the ones w-w-we do in charms. Levitation and banishing and-and-and things like that?"

Understanding came across the red head’s face. "Of course!" she exclaimed, one hand slapping down on the table. "I’m so used to doing spells like the ones in charms without a wand that I must kinda instinctively try and do them with my mind..."

"And you can perform with the wand in transfiguration because you have never done anything like that with or without a wand, so you automatically use the wand, as it should be used..."

Both witches looked very proud to now understand why the wand was causing so many problems in charms.

"So what can y-you do about it?"

Hermione’s face twisted in an expression of thought. "Well, if it is just an instinctual reaction to performing charms..."

"Omigod..." Leon and the Professor both looked at Willow, who was rising in her seat, a delighted expression on her face which seemed to be positively glowing with happiness. "Omigod! OZ!"

Both of her companions stood to see her sprinting the length of the Great Hall, many other eyes looking around to see what the fuss was about, and crashing straight into the arms of a small young man with a colourful shirt and equally colourful hair.

"Who’s that, Professor?"

Hermione smiled a little as Willow covered the new arrival’s face with kisses, before claiming his mouth in a hard kiss, one of his arms - which was decorated with beaded bracelets - wrapping around her waist.

"Call it a wild guess, Leon," she murmured. "But I would say that’s her boyfriend."

***

Hand-in-hand, Willow and Oz were walking by the lakeside in the late afternoon, after a brief tour of the castle and an introduction to Hermione, who had seemed very pleased to meet the werewolf.

In the early Autumn warmth, the grounds of the castle looked even more spectacular than usual, a collage of gold, red, browns and russets, the sun casting a warming glow over all of it.

"Nice place," he said, as they looked out over the dark, glassy waters of the lake. His fingers interwoven between hers, he lifted her hand to his lips, glancing sidelong at her. "You like it here?"

"It’s amazing," she sidled a little closer to him, her body warmly pressing against his. "I mean, there’s so much to see and everything is always changing all the time, even when you look, you see pictures move and staircases changing..." she paused for a moment, then asked, "Are you staying for while?"

His lips quirked upwards slightly in what she recognised as his equivalent of a broad smile. "If you want."

"If I want?" Oz immediately had an armful of laughing and crying witch. "Of course I want!" Warm kisses were scattered all over his face. "Oh God...I’ve missed you so much Oz..."

"Pretty much ditto," he replied softly, lifting a hand to cup her face gently. The rough calluses of his fingertips and thumb against her cheek made her smile, her eyes closing as she savoured the touch that was so familiar.

Stroking his fingertips through her silky hair, just behind her ear, he drew her face down to his, their foreheads rubbing together in the gesture of comfort that they had often shared.

Tilting her head a little, Willow brushed a kiss against the heel of his hand, her eyes opening to find him gazing at her intensely. His other came up to frame her face and she was reminded of...

"Are we panicking?" she asked shakily, staring at him.

Oz simply nodded. "We’re panicking," he affirmed, before claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss.

"Outdoors?" she asked, a breathless moment later. He gave her a suggestion of a wicked smirk, his hands slipping under her robes. "Oh God..."

"Call of the wild?" he murmured against her throat, before kissing her again.

The last coherent thought that Willow had was that Hagrid wouldn’t be doing his rounds anywhere near the lake any time soon...

***

"Willow!"

"Hi, Leon," Sliding into her place at the Gryffindor table next to the small, dark boy, Willow looked up as Oz slipped into a free space that had been provided next to her, a smile on her face. "Oz, this is Leon, Leon, Oz, my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

She and her boyfriend had run in almost an hour late to the feast, which was hardly surprising considering they had practically been on the other side of the lake and had been more than a little distracted with thing more...interesting than food.

Willow’s robes were in disarray, her face aglow, her hair wild about her face and her eyes dancing, despite the grassy stains on her hands and knees.

Oz looked as calm as he had when he had arrived at the Great Hall, nearly three hours earlier, only there was a twinkle in his eye that could rival Dumbledore’s and that was really saying something.

Apparently, the happy vibe rising from the couple was more obvious than they had realised, a cough from the top of the hall catching Willow’s attention.

The witch glanced up towards the teachers table to see Hermione wink down at her and grinned. "Did we miss anything?" she asked, as she and Oz helped themselves to the food already on the table.

"Dumbledore made an announcement an hour before dinner started about the far side of the lake being out of bounds until tomorrow..."

"Eep!" Willow went scarlet. She could feel the heat rising in her face and wondered why it was suddenly getting so very warm. A hand touched her thigh beneath the table and she glanced at Oz, who smiled slightly.

"You’re blushing," he murmured softly, his hand moving in gentle circles on her inner thigh.

"Do you blame me for blushing when Dumbledore knows what we were..." she mumbled unsteadily, a little distracted by his lazy caress beneath her robes. "And then he made sure that everyone else knew that there was the thing that meant the other side of the lake was out of bounds and was our fault and you and me...and we..." she buried her face in his shoulder with a moan. "I’ve never been so embarrassed..."

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," a familiar voice said from behind her. "And you, Mr. Osbourne."

"Oh God...I was wrong..." Oz chuckled, as Willow’s face went an even deeper shade of red. Turning, she sheepishly looked up at Dumbledore. "Um...hi..."

The Head Master’s eyes were twinkling as usual. "I’m very glad to see that you had a happy reunion with Daniel," he said.

"When you say see...?" Willow’s brows lifted hopefully. "You don’t mean see-see right? You mean the holding-hands-and-walking-into-the-hall-for-dinner-see, not the I-saw-you-and-know-what-happened-see?"

The twinkle was making her blush even more, if that were actually possible, her ears burning. "I merely meant, Miss Weasley, that you and Daniel look positively aglow. I have no idea what you mean by seeing anything whatsoever..."

Willow made a plaintive whimpering sound in her throat and buried her ruby face in Oz’s shoulder again, as Professor Dumbledore moved off towards the teacher’s table, chuckling softly.

"I don’t care what people say," she mumbled against Oz’s neck. "He’s evil. He’s an evil nasty and mean person who shouldn’t spend so much time trying to embarrass poor, helpless little witches because it’s not a good thing to do especially when the poor little witch gets very embarrassed very easily anyway and I really don’t like being embarrassed cos it leads to blushing and bab...um..." Her eyes rose to her boyfriend, who was looking very amused. "You said you’d stop me when I do that."

Nudging his forehead against hers a little, he replied, "I like it when you do that. I missed it."

Willow’s lips curled up in a smile. "I missed it when you say you missed me doing stuff," she murmured, nestling against him, although she had the distinct feeling that they were being watched.

"Dark guy’s staring. Looks kinda evil..."

Ah, Snape.

She should have known.

"That’s just Cranky-pants Snape," she said quietly, letting her eyes flick to him for a second. He was doing his usual half-closed eyes thing, so it didn’t look like he was watching them, but she was familiar with it.

"Hmm," Oz’s forehead was resting against her temple. "Creepy."

"But a good guy," Willow muttered. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Mmm."

Willow raised a hand to stroke through Oz’s hair. "I think he’s jealous," she said.

"Jealous, huh?" One of her boyfriend’s hands came up and turned her face back to his, their foreheads brushing against one another again, his fingertip brushing along her lip. "Could be easy to annoy..."

"Oz, you’re terrible!"

His eyes glinted. "I know," he breathed hotly, his words warm against her lips, his fingertips trailing down her chin and throat, a second before she was pulled into his arms and kissed.

Wolf-whistles and whooping hoots rang out from the senior end of the table, while the junior years made sounds of being sick, making Willow’s receding flush return full force, her ears scarlet.

Pulling away from her lips, his row still against hers, his pants warm and sweet on her face, Oz asked softly, "He still watching?" Willow’s eyes flicked sideways and she nodded, drawing deep breaths. "How’d’s’he look?"

"Like he’s..." Willow blinked, staring. "Uh...he’s smirking..."

Oz, one arm still loosely around his girlfriend’s waist, turned back to the table, shooting an expressionless look in Snape’s direction. "Hmm," he murmured. "Is he always that creepy?"

"Oh yeah," Willow nodded, her head resting Oz’s shoulder. "I don’t think anyone really likes him and he doesn’t like very many of the teachers, especially Hermione and Remus."

"Oh?"

"You’ll like Remus," she nodded. "He’s a werewolf." There was a moment’s silence before she cautiously added. "At least, I think you’ll like him. Don’t get mad at him or make him mad, though...I mean, the last time I saw you and another wolf..."

Oz looked at her. "Will, I’m sure we’ll get on great," he reassured, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "As long as evil-guy doesn’t put the moves on you and Remus doesn’t get mad easily...I think we’ll be fine."

***

"Remus!"

Halfway down the corridor that lead to his bedroom, still recovering from the after-effects of the full moon two nights before, Lupin paused at the voice of the youngest Weasley, turning to see her hurrying towards him.

"Willow," he smiled.

"Come with me," she said urgently, latching onto his arm. "I’ve got someone who wants to meet you."

Lupin gave her a curious look, then inhaled a breath. "Ah, your boyfriend..." He could feel the warmth radiating from her red cheeks and chuckled when she scowled at him, hauling him along by the arm.

"I hate it when you do that wolfy-senses thing," she grumbled at him. "It’s not fair when we can’t smell if we smell or if you’re smelling something we should smell, but don’t know we should smell it since you smell more than we smell anyway..."

"Quite."

Willow pulled a face at him. "You know what I mean," she said.

Stopping in front of a painting of a group of nuns, which was the hidden doorway that lead up to the room that Hermione and Willow shared, without have to pass through the common room, the witch stepped close and muttered the password.

Lupin couldn’t help laughing.

"Slippery nipple?" he inquired, as the painting swung open, all the nuns in it gasping in mortification at the words.

"Hermione thinks its funny," Willow mumbled. "We take it in turns to make a new password and she chose that one, cos she knows it embarrasses me and she’s worse than Fred and George for trying to make me blush."

Lupin smiled a little, as he was led up the winding stairs, which opened onto a small landing, where a single door hung half-open, revealing the warmly coloured room of the two witches.

Seated in the window-seat, a young man was leaning back against the window frame in front of her, Hermione was pointing out the various features of the grounds to the younger werewolf, who seemed to go rigid as Willow and Lupin arrived.

"Oz," Hurrying across the room, Willow took one of her boyfriend’s hands, as he came to his feet. "This is Remus Lupin." She motioned Lupin forward with an eager wave. "I told you about him..."

Crossing the floor, the thick carpet rising up his shin ticklishly, he stopped two paces away from the younger werewolf studying him with interest. He had never had the chance to meet a wolf before, especially not in these circumstances.

The boy was small, smaller than Willow, with hair that was several different colours of the rainbow. He was wearing loose trousers, a baggy T-shirt and a loose shirt over them, several beaded necklaces and bracelets adorning his throat and wrists.

Lupin felt almost like he was staring at a younger image of himself, when he finally met the boy’s calm, pale eyes. While they looked nothing alike, there was something in the eyes that reminded him so much of himself

"Hey," A slim hand was held out to him.

"Hey," he replied, his own hand closing around the younger wolf’s. It was warm and dry, much like his own. "Remus Lupin."

"Daniel Osbourne."

There was a moment’s silence, during which the two young witches anxiously looked from one face to the other.

Osbourne’s eyes flicked over Lupin’s face. "Bad time?"

"Worst," Lupin felt a smile reach his lips.

Finally, here was someone who could make comparisons with him. Someone who knew exactly what it was like and could see, just by looking at him, how he was feeling and assess him from there.

He knew he looked raw.

He had shaved and brushed himself up, but - after years of being greeted by his reflection in the mornings - he could see the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his face all reflecting on how good or bad the transformation had been.

"Bad luck."

"You?"

"Nothing I can’t handle."

"Used to it?"

"If you can be..."

Willow and Hermione were looking distinctly blank.

"Uh, what are you guys talking about?"

Osbourne’s lips quirked. "Wolf stuff," he replied.

"Just passed," Lupin nodded. "Solstice..."

"Longer nights starting," Oz replied, a grim look crossing his stoic face.

"Makes it harder."

"More painful."

Willow was looking at them both as they exchanged knowing nods, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay," she said firmly. "You two are really starting to give me a wiggens..."

Oz and Lupin exchanged quiet smiles and Willow warily stepped back behind the giggling Hermione.

"I think they’re doing it on purpose," Hermione remarked dryly.

As one, both werewolves turned in the direction of the witches and smiled those identical tiny smiles.

"You think so?" Willow moaned, ducking behind Hermione’s back. "I’m starting to think it was a bad idea to introduce them..."

"To quote an Americanism," Hermione snickered. "Duh."


Chapter 28: Dark Whispers

"I’m getting bored, Jinx!"

The pack of hardy little demons were busy rushing around their effulgent gleaming wonderousness’ luxurious, penthouse apartment but Glory was lazing on a chaise-lounge in the centre of the room, one hand lightly resting over her forehead and closed eyes, looking a little drained.

A few of her minions were scuttling around, the chief one, Jinx, warily approaching the chaise.

He was about five-foot tall and clad in sackcloth robes that looked like a miniature monk’s habit, his skin scaled and dark red-brown. Black eyes stared nervously at the reclining Hell Goddess.

After all, the fabulous Glorificus was one of the most powerful demon entities to ever enter Sunnydale and she held all the supreme powers of a Goddess from a Hell Dimension.

Okay, yes, they had kicked her out of the dimension for trying to take over and make it ‘Gloryworld’ – Hey! A damned mouse in this dimension got his own world, so why not ‘Gloryworld’? – the ungrateful idiots that they were, but she was still a Hell Goddess, dammit!

Although there was that minor issue of her sanity vanishing on regular occasions...

That usually meant she had to top it up by...borrowing from some of the lesser beings that inhabited the Hellmouth, provided by her minions.

It had the unfortunate side effect of leaving insane humans behind, but as long as she was sane enough to co-ordinate her wardrobe and threaten her minions, Glory couldn’t care less.

"How-how-how can we help, oh dazzling Glorificus?" A yelp escaped him as her other hand shot out and grabbed him by one of his bat-like ears and yanked him closer to the couch.

"What did I tell you about using my name, Jinxy?" she sighed in frustration. "And you know what you can do," she released his ear, wiping her hand on the couch, and the demon staggered. "Find me my goddamned Key."

The squat, bumpy-looking demon minion scrambled out of reach of Glory’s hand, his robes hiked up to his knobbly knees. "We are still searching, your most radiant-luminousness," he whimpered, cringing when she crooked her finger at him.

"Searching isn’t good enough!" One of her deceptively delicate hands grabbed him by the front of the robe, hoisting him off his feet. "I want finding, Jinxy. You know. The kind of finding that means that I have my Key without the Slayer ruining more of my clothes? Is any of this getting through?"

"We-we-we truly sympathise with the d-d-damage placed on your wardrobe, your glimmering beauteousness!" he squeaked, trying to squirm free of her grip and run for cover as she glared at him.

"Mmm...the Gucci...it was a one of a kind..."

Glory’s hand draped over her eyes and forehead again, a quiet moan escaping her, as her eyes closed.

"Are you..." Jinx studied her cautiously. "Do you need something, your illuminous gleaming radiance?"

Her half-closed eyes looked at him and she smiled unsteadily.

"Perhaps a little pick-me-up would be good..." Her hand waved in circles in his direction. "It-it’s starting to scratch away...scratch-scratch-scratch away inside my head...know what I mean, Jinxy?" He nodded sympathetically, although he had no clue what she was talking about. It was safer to agree with whatever she said than to get thrown across the room for asking what she meant. "I guess I should try and take my mind off it...have you got me anything?"

Jinx eagerly clapped his lumpy hands together and two of the other minions scuttled out of the door, returning several minutes later with a dumpy man in a suit with a long trench coat over it.

"This salesman came, your radiant delicateness!"

Struggling to sit up, Glory swayed where she sat, her head rocking on her shoulder as the minions - like evil mini-monks crossed with Oompa Loompas on crack - hustled the overweight man towards her.

"What you wantin’, lady?" the man demanded, sounding a little frightened.

A gleaming sheen of sweat was washed over his red, round face and above his upper lip and his hands were shaking around his sales case, which was held up against his slightly larger than average paunch.

Mind you, considering the...things that were gathered around him, prodding him and exclaiming about how juicy his mind was, it was more than a little justified that he was getting nervous.

"Come..." Glory moaned, gesturing him forward.

He was pushed to his knees in front of her, staring.

The minions smiled knowingly at one another.

No doubt he was in awe of the absolute radiance of her wonderful glimmeriness and her lusciously curly golden tresses and hideously smooth features and...oh, she was simply too wonderful for them to describe.

One of Glory’s hands rose and she pushed the man’s hat off, letting it bounce on the floor, revealing a bald crown, gleaming with sweat.

"Look, lady, I dunno who-who-who you are or what-what you want from me, but I’m married..."

Swaying, an insane smile coming to her lips, Glory’s eyes fixed on his face, as her fingers moved in circles on his temples. "Uh...huh...married with bells on and a little bride all dressed in white..."

Both she and the man cried out as her fingers plunged through his temples and into his skull, light streaming out from the spots where her fingers had penetrated his mind, the man’s voice rising in a cry of pain, while hers soared in rapture.

Gradually the cries trailed off.

Yanking her fingers free, a broad smile on her face, Glory let the salesman droop at her feet, mumbling about the light. "God, I feel so much better now!" she trilled enthusiastically, leaping to her feet. "And what the Hell am I wearing?"

"A very attractive combination of dark grey training pants and a Khaki T-shirt, your gracious swoon-worthiness!" one of the lesser minions called out eagerly. "It has never looked so glamorous on anyone but you!"

Glory sniffed. "That might be true, but I can’t go looking for my Key when I look like this..." she stalked towards her wardrobe and disappeared into it’s depths, as the minions exchanged proud looks.

It truly was a privilege to work for her radiantness.

Apart from pain, the humiliation, degradation and beatings...

But who truly paid attention to those things anyway?

***

Lying on her belly on her bed, her feet kicking lazily back and forth, Willow was writing to Buffy. Oz was lying beside her, on his back, one hand behind his head, as he watched her write, a small smile on his lips.

Sunlight was streaming in from all sides, drenching the room in a flood of afternoon light, the white gauze drapes whispering in the Autumn-scented breeze that was rippling into the tower.

Her nose wrinkled, Willow was scribbling on the paper with furious concentration, her forehead creased and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Pausing at the end of a line, she glanced at her boyfriend.

Pale eyes gazed back at her, twinkling.

"What?" Pushing a swathe of red hair back from her eyes, she mock-glared at him, laying her quill down.

"Hmm?"

"You were staring at me," she laughed, playfully pushing his face away, only to squeal when he kissed her palm. "Oz!" His eyes half-closed, he studied her, that familiar almost-smile on his lips. "You are gonna be in so much trouble if you keep doing that, Mister!"

"You had your thinking-face on," One of his hands came up, sliding into her hair, his fingertips skimming the cusp of her ear. Willow shivered at the contact. "I like your thinking face."

"You do?"

"All Willow-faces are good," he murmured, gazing up at her, his fingertips moving in small, lazy circles on her scalp. She blinked at him mutely, her lips parted. "Even that one." His thumb brushed down her cheek, tracing along her cheekbone.

"Oz..."

"Mmm?"

"Hermione’ll be back from that staff meeting soon..."

One of his eyebrows rose slightly, but his fingers kept playing lightly through her hair, her eyes fluttering closed.

A gasp escaped her when she felt the mattress shift beneath them, as he moved closer, the heat of his body close enough for her to feel through her casual T-shirt and trousers. A warm breath made the hairs on her neck rise.

A tingle passed through her and she tried to form words. "Oz..."

"Sh..." he whispered, his lips skimming against her neck, like a brush of silk against skin that suddenly felt feverishly hot, his hand cradling her cheek.

The soft stroke of his lips under her jaw and along her jawline made her tremble, one hand shakily rising to cover the one cradling her face, turning the palm in to her own kisses.

A feathery kiss touched the corner of her mouth. "Hermione’ll be back soon," he echoed her words teasingly, his forehead brushing against her temple.

"Screw Hermione," Willow gasped as one of his hands brushed down her back, making her arch.

"I would prefer you," he murmured, before claiming her lips in a kiss.

With a wave of her hand, the drapes whipped closed around Willow’s bed, as she fell into her lover’s embrace.

***

"You are aware why you have been called here, are you not?"

Every member of staff body of Hogwarts was present in the staff room, some seated, some standing, all looking up at the head master with some measure of understanding and expectation.

Dumbledore, standing the stretch of light spreading through the arched windows, was gazing out on the grounds. He didn’t turn as he began to speak, his voice barely a murmur, but carrying to them all.

"A dark power is rising," His fingertips brushed along the off-white stone of the window ledge. "It may not be close to us, but it - if permitted - will encompass our world and destroy all that we have striven to raise in these past years."

"Do we know what it is, Head Master?" Granger was the one to ask. She was seated on one of the low, comfortable couches that stood around an equally low table in the middle of the room.

He turned, pausing to brush some dust from his flowing sleeve. "I am afraid that I know exactly what it is, Miss Granger," he replied gravely. "And I am aware of how it will succeed, if we stand aside and do nothing."

"How...bad is it?"

"It is worse that Voldemort," Everyone in the room flinched, their faces twisting in horror at the news.

There was a long silence, looks exchanged.

"The darkness is in the form of a woman, who currently resides in South California in the United States of America," he said, pacing across the room. His robes rustled, the only sound but for the breathing of his audience. "However, should anyone in this room see her, do not be fooled. She is no muggle...nor simply a magical being. She is a Goddess from a Hell dimension. Should she succeed in her plans, a gateway between her world and ours will be opened, bringing with it the ruin of all."

Someone uttered a curse.

McGonagall’s face went a little white, her hands spread on the back of the chair that she was standing behind. "Albus, are you sure of this?"

Blue eyes looked at her. "Yes," was the only answer he gave.

"How can a Goddess be defeated?" Snape asked quietly. "It was difficult enough to defeat the Dark Lord and he was a half-muggle."

Dumbledore came around in front of one of the couches, Sprout leaping up and to one side to allow him to sit down. The Head Master gave her a grateful look, settling himself and adjusting his robes around him.

"There is a way," he said calmly. "That we can prevent her from doing unnecessary damage, by concealing and protecting the mystical object which she seeks. That object could be the one to destroy our world."

"Shouldn’t we destroy it before she gets to it?"

Dumbedore shook his head, his beard rasping against his embroidered robes. "I am afraid that," he replied. "Even from a moral standpoint, it would be a crime to destroy this Key."

"Do we know where this...thing is?" Granger asked.

"Yes," the reply came with a trace of satisfaction. "The Key is under the protection of the current Vampire Slayer, who also resides in South California."

"The Vampire Slayer?" Lupin echoed.

"I believe some of you will have heard of her...and met her at some point during this summer," Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in the direction of Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who both nodded.

"How is a little girl, who has a duty to fight vampires and demons, supposed to protect this magical object?" Snape demanded, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes locked with Dumbledore’s, gleaming questioningly.

Dumbledore almost wanted to laugh out loud. How very typical it was of Severus to doubt that anyone save him could defend anything against the Dark Arts.

"Ah, that is a good question, Severus. Perhaps, I ought to have informed you that this particular Slayer has been performing this duty for five years now. I believe, if my calculations are correct, that this is some kind of record?"

Snape’s expression hardened. "That does not answer the question, Head Master."

"Severus, this young woman had saved the world from the forces of darkness more times than I dare to even contemplate, even sacrificing that which she loved the most to save the world she barely knows," Dumbledore said gently. "She will protect the Key with her life."

"Does she know she has the Key?"

"I believe so, Miss Granger."

"And if she can’t protect it?"

Dumbledore eyes went to his hands, which were folded together. Odd, he noticed as he considered his answer, his freckles perfectly formed the constellation of Orion on the back of his left hand.

"Head Master?"

"Oh!" Blue eyes rose. "She will be able to contact me, should she need aid," he replied with a smile, glancing down at the group of freckles again.

They were really quite fascinating things, like the scar of the London underground on his knee.

He reluctantly suppressed the urge of showing them to Professor McGonagall, despite the odd desire to let her see. Something told him it wasn’t quite the right time for showing off freckles.

"And if she does require our assistance?"

Dumbledore raised bushy eyebrows. "Well, obviously, Severus, we will give it to her," he replied. "I mean, I do appreciate warmer weather now and again, but I think Hell-on-Earth may be a little hot for my tastes."

Professor Granger giggled behind her hand.

"How could we aid her, Albus? We aren’t exactly...equipped to fight a Goddess."

The Head Master leaned back to study the light playing through one of the high windows on the wall. "We aid her in any way that we can," he answered calmly. "I trust her judgement. She won’t come to us unless she truly believes she is incapable of protecting the Key and when that day comes, we shall aid her."

"And if this Goddess attacks Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "If I may quote the Slayer on this subject," A few shrugs passed around the group and his eyes glinted impishly. "We kick her sorry ass back to Hell."

***

Pushing the front door closed behind her, Buffy shrugged her backpack off her back and deposited on the floor at her feet in the hall. "Mom, I’m home," she called, loosening her hair.

"Ain’t that precious? Nice to see that some people in this world still care about their old mothers."

The Slayer went rigid, turning to look into the living room.

Glory, her left arm propped on the arm of the chair, waved her fingers at the Slayer, a smile on her lips. "Hey, sweetie," she cooed. "Hope you don’t mind me dropping in uninvited, but I heard a whisper that you had my Key."

"Get out of here."

"Ooh, spunky," Sitting up, the blonde woman grinned at her without humour. "I’m not leaving until I get my Key."

"I don’t have it," Buffy lied, her hands clenched into fists as she walked a little way into the living room. "Where’s my mom?"

"Oh don’t worry about her, Precious. She was napping on her bed. She wouldn’t know anything useful but you..." A perfectly manicured finger was directed at the Slayer. "You know something."

"I don’t know anything about your Key," Buffy’s eyes widened in panic, as Dawn wandered in from the kitchen, eating peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers. She made a slight gesture with her hands and Dawn stopped walking, one sticky finger in her mouth.

Raising her eyebrows, Dawn looked at the back of the head of the woman in front of her. Her eyes returned to Buffy and she understood.

"Come on, Slayer, I know you have something..." Glory leaned forwards in her seat, cupping her chin in her right hand. "You want to tell me or do I rip your house down and find it myself?"

Motioning with her fingers, her eyes still on Glory, Buffy glared at the woman. "I don’t have your Key," she repeated, mentally sighing as Dawn started to back towards the kitchen. "I don’t know anything about it."

"Hold on, cutie," A hand pointed in Dawn’s direction, the dark-haired teen freezing on the spot. Twisting in her seat, Glory smiled up at her. "How about you? Do you know anything about my Key?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Dawn assumed hostile-sulk position. "No."

"Your sister stole it from me and I really want it back," Glory gave Dawn a mock sympathetic look. "She ever steal your stuff?"

"All the time," Dawn’s fingertips drummed on her upper arms and she flashed a frightened look at her elder sister, who nodded for her to stay calm.

"Its annoying, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," Dawn scowled, looking impressively moody. "Having a sister sucks."

"And I bet it would really annoy her if you told me where my Key is, huh?"

Dawn gave her the huffy teenager look again. "If I knew I would tell you, but no one ever tells me anything," Buffy felt like applauding her sister for the little scene. "I’m just a kid, according to them!"

Turning, she stomped off and thundered up the stairs.

Glory turned back to Buffy. "Cute kid," she remarked, as she came to her feet. "If I don’t get my Key, I think I’ll kill her first."

"Over my dead body," Buffy snarled.

Glory smiled coldly. "That could be arranged, sweetie," she said dangerously. Then, she stepped around Buffy. "I’ll be back, little girl. I’m going to find my Key and you’re not going to stop me."

Arms crossed over her chest, Buffy followed the blonde woman with her eyes until Glory disappeared out the front door.

As soon as she was gone, the Slayer ran to the telephone and dialled Giles’ number with shaking hands. He answered instantly. "Giles..." she whispered urgently. "Glory was here...she threatened Dawn...yeah...we need help..."

Placing the telephone back in the cradle, Buffy glanced up at the ceiling, to the place where her sister’s room was located.

A smile reached her lips.

Things were about to get very interesting.


Chapter 29: Sanctuary

"But are you sure it’s a good idea to send her somewhere else?"

Dawn leaned against the wall, halfway down the stairs, her face tight with anger and confusion. Yeah, she had been told about the whole Key deal ages ago, but Buffy wanted to get rid of her?

Her feet two steps down, she leaned forwards, her elbows on her knees, her long hair sweeping lightly against her hands as she listened. Her mother, Buffy and Giles were talking in the dining room and apparently weren’t aware that she was there.

"It would certainly be a lot safer, Joyce," Giles said. He was speaking in his protective, almost father-like tone. "They’re powerful and they will be able to shield her from Glory in ways that we can’t and keep her out of trouble."

Yeah, because she couldn’t look after herself.

The teenager scowled a little more darkly.

She heard her mother sigh before she started speaking again.

"Where would we be sending her to?" Oh, gee, thanks for the support and love, mom. You just tell them to send me right away. "I mean, where is there that is safer than with you, Buffy?"

"Its a wizarding school," Giles said.

WHOA!

Hold the phone!

What was THIS?

Wizarding school?

That sounded so Harry-Potter!

Okay, if they were going to send her to somewhere like Hogwarts, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

That would be so cool!

Easing down a step, she leaned forward a little, listening closely. "A wizarding school?" she heard her mom asking, sounding as surprised as she felt. "But I didn’t think wizarding schools were real."

"Nor did we, but it turned out Willow was a real witchy type, so she moved away from Sunnydale to go and learn her witchy stuff at a school," Buffy explained, Dawn’s mouth opening in astonishment.

"Willow’s there?" Joyce sounded reassured. "Is...is it a nice school? I mean, it’s not one of those horrible movie-style boarding schools, is it? I would hate to send her anywhere like that..."

"Will loves it," Buffy confirmed. "And I bet Dawn will too."

Taking that as her cue, Dawn stood up and walked into the room, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could have just asked me," she said, giving them her best sulky teenager look.

Giles and Buffy had matching looks on their faces: the expression that said ‘We are so busted!’

"Dawn, what have I told you about listening in on other people’s conversations?"

"Mom, you were all talking so loudly I couldn’t not hear it," Sliding into the vacant seat next to her sister, Dawn grinned. "So...where’s this wizarding school thing and when do I go?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at her. "You want to go?"

Dawn shrugged. If it was confusing the ‘adults’, even better. "Sure!" she replied, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. "I wanna see Willow. I haven’t seen her in so long."

"Well, that was easier and less painful than I expected..." Giles remarked, taking off his glasses and cleaning them.

"How do I get there? When do I go? Is it a big school? Like in Harry Potter?" Her sister and Giles exchanged a strange look. "What? Is it tiny? Is it a one-person school or something?"

"Firstly, Dawn," Giles started to speak. "You would have to fly to England, on a plane not on a broomstick," he deliberately emphasised it and she pouted. "One of Willow’s brothers will meet you at the other end and take you to the school."

"Willow has brothers?"

"Yeah, mom," Buffy answered. "It turns out she was kidnapped by a bad wizard guy when she was a baby and there’s this whole big thing where she’s related to this magic family."

"If Harry Potter was real, I bet she would be a Weasley," Dawn said thoughtfully, tracing circles on the tabletop. Giles made a noise that sounded like a laugh turned into a very fake sneeze. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, Dawn," He smiled. "Now, perhaps we should decide how we are to get the transport arranged..."

***

"Two staff meetings in two weeks, Albus...I’m starting to get quite concerned about you," Professor McGonagall muttered to the Head Master, as she sat down beside him on the low couch in the main staff room.

"Nothing to worry about, my dear," the Head master replied, patting her hand. "Is everyone present and correct?"

Murmurs of assent passed around the teaching body.

"As I mentioned at our last meeting, the Slayer had my permission to contact me, should she need our assistance in the concealment of the artefact, which the Hell Goddess is looking for."

"Let me guess," Snape said dryly. "She needs our help."

Professor Dumbledore’s face creased in a smile beneath his beard. "For a short time, yes. She has requested that we grant sanctuary to the Key. She will be arriving some time early next week."

"The Slayer?"

"No. The Key."

Hermione Granger raised a hand questioningly. "I know I’m not the only one thinking ‘eh?’ here, Head Master," she said, her forehead creasing. "Are you saying that the Key is a person?"

"That is exactly what I’m saying, Professor Granger."

"Which is why you said it would be morally wrong to destroy it..."

The Head Master smiled serenely. "I do so love it when a good puzzle comes together," he remarked, twiddling his thumbs. "Perhaps I ought to explain. In order to give the Slayer incentive to protect the Key, the previous protectors of the Key sent it to her in a human form, with memories and attachments. To the Slayer and everyone who knows the Key, the Key is a real person."

"But to us, she’s simply a Key..."

Dumbledore chuckled. He had heard all about Dawn, when he had been contacted by Rupert Giles. "Ah, yes, Minerva, but I would suggest waiting until you meet her. A fourteen-year-old girl going through puberty behaves...strangely enough as it is, but to be told you are an interdimensional lockpick..." His eyes twinkled. "I’m sure she will be an interesting addition to the school."

"Albus, you thought Willow Weasley was going to be an interesting addition to the school and she blew the wall of my charms classroom across the lake..." Professor Flitwick piped up.

Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled. "Personally, I did find that rather interesting," he said with a barely hidden smile.

"How is the Key getting here?"

"The Key," the Head Master started to speak again, his expression turning serious. "Is to be called Dawn under all circumstances. Should she be referred to as the Key, we would all be placed in grave peril."

"Tune in next week for another death-defying adventure at Hogwarts, the safest Wizarding School in the world..." Hermione muttered. Dumbledore gave her a reprimanding look, belied by his twinkling eyes.

"She will be arriving on the Hogwarts Express from London with a couple of special visitors at some point in the next week," he said jovially. "I’m sure you’ll see her when she arrives."

"And where will she be staying?" Blue eyes twinkled in Hermione’s direction. "Oh, no! No you don’t! Sharing with Willow and Oz is bad enough for now! I’m not having a hormonal timebomb in my room!"

"I have been assured that she is very well behaved."

"Compared to WHAT?"

"Professor Granger, she knows Miss Weasley," Dumbledore’s tone changed a little. "I would feel more secure in the knowledge that she is staying with someone she knows and trusts, at least until she is used to the school."

Hermione sighed. "All right, Albus," She pointed a finger in his direction. "But don’t you dare say that I never do anything for you."

"You are an angel, Professor Granger. A gem. A star. The brightest star to ever grace the highest of the heavens and we are truly blessed to have your luminous radiance bestowing it's light upon us!"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said grumpily, hiding a smile.

***

Walking through the passageway behind the rest of the passengers from the flight, Dawn felt a pack of butterflies doing the lambada in her stomach, her hands gripping onto the shoulder straps of her rucksack and the extended handle of her wheeled case which was running along behind her.

It was nearly fourteen and a half hours since she had boarded the flight in Los Angeles airport, her mother, sister, Giles, Xander and Anya seeing her off with a few tears from everyone.

One of the stewardesses on the flight had been assigned to keep check of her. She had acted annoyed about it, but secretly she was relieved to have someone watching out for her.

That same stewardess had been traded as soon as she landed for one of the ground staff at Heathrow Airport, who was now walking alongside her and talking in a voice with a very cool, very Gilesy accent.

She had slept for most of the flight, but now, she was in London, walking out into a strange country, expecting a group of complete strangers to recognise her and take her to a magic school.

How was she going to recognise them? Did they look like Willow? What if they didn’t see her or she didn’t see them and they missed each other and she was left standing in the middle of the airport and...

Okay...

She stopped short.

So, she wasn’t going to miss them by accident.

On purpose maybe, but not by accident.

A group of men were standing under a large, hideously colourful - and were the words flashing in different colours? - banner with the word ‘Dawn Summers, come on down!’ printed on it.

Oh...God...

Smiling awkwardly, Dawn started walking up the hall towards them, where they stood at the railings, then stopped again, staring, her heart jumping down to her toes then back to her throat in one quick bungee.

Oh...

My...

God...

The men that were waiting for her...every single one of them had red hair.

Bright red hair.

And two of them were identical, wearing wool sweaters with the letters ‘F’ and ‘G’ on them.

And one of them was tall and gangly with a long nose and freckles.

And one had horn-rimed glasses on and a suit and an expression that said he would prefer to be working.

And the last two...one was short and stocky with burns on his grinning face and singed hair, the other tall and wearing what looked like leather, his long hair pulled back from his face.

Dawn blinked.

She had to be seeing things.

"Hey!" one of them shouted to her. "You’re Dawnie, right?"

Unable to think of anything to say, she nodded, staring. The short, stocky man ducked under the barrier and hurried towards her, grabbing her case with one callused hand and her arm with the other.

"All right?" he grinned at her.

"Uh...hi..."

"I’d guess that’s the jetlag talking," he remarked, as the banner they had was hauled down and she was helped under the rail by several pairs of hands. "I’m Charlie, by the way," he said. "Charlie Weasley."

Dawn blinked.

"You all right? You look a bit peaky."

The teenager looked faintly up at the one who had spoken. It was the tallest of the group, with the long nose and millions of freckles and despite him being a lot older than he should be, she knew who he was.

"R-Ron?"

The man with the long hair let out a guffaw, which drew startled looks from all around them. "Oh, this is bloody priceless!" he said, pointing at her. "She’s read the books! She’s read the bleeding books!"

"So that’s why Wills told all of us to be here and for us two to wear our lettered jumpers..." the man with the ‘F’ sweater said. He studied Dawn with a grin. "I’m George, by the way. And you look like you’re going to faint."

"Uh...I...I think I should sit..."

Helped over to a block of seats, Dawn sat down heavily, feeling very, very dizzy.

"I-I’m not just dreaming this, am I? I’m not still asleep on the plane...?"

"No, you’re not dreaming this," Ron said comfortingly, then looked around at his brothers. "Any of you got any chocolate?"

"I’ve got a burnt bar..." Charlie offered. "If you can chip the crust off, it should be all right."

George rooted through his pockets. "Canary creams...ton tongue toffees... ever-growing gobstoppers...lick-n-stick mice..." he shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Ron, no chocolate today."

"Useless, absolutely useless," The bespectacled one reappeared, pushing between them and holding out something called a ‘twirl’. "Here, Miss Summers, I think this should suffice."

Dawn tried to say thanks, but her words caught, her hands shaking a she tried to open the purple wrapper of the bar of chocolate.

"Here," Ron opened it for her. He was squatting on his toes beside her, studying her with concern. "You all right?" She nodded, staring at him, wide-eyed. "Willow is dying for this one! This is just mean!"

"W-wait...you’re Willow’s brothers?"

"That’s us. Even Perce, although we had to abduct him by force from work," The one with glasses huffed indignantly. "We've got a charm on us so no other muggle sees us as a madcap band of red-haired men but you."

"Willows a Weasley..." Her stunned expression was rapidly giving way to a broad smile, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "Willows a Weasley! I knew it! I knew that she couldn’t be a red-haired witch and not be related to you guys!"

"So you can deal with the fact that a bunch of fictional characters aren’t fictional now?" Ron said, giving her a grin. Dawn ducked her head and went scarlet. He might be older than her sister, but OMIGOD! didn’t cut it!

"Have you got her?" A female voice interrupted. "Did she get here all right?"

"Yeah, Ginny," Charlie called, waving someone over. "Willow didn’t bother telling us that she had read the books..." he glanced down at Dawn, then added in a lower voice. "Is you-know-who still in the car?"

"You-Know-Who?" Dawn squeaked, going white.

"Oh crap..."

"Well done, Charlie."

Ron sighed, shaking his head. "Don’t worry, Dawn, not that You-Know-Who. Its someone we call you-know-who in the family because he went and got too bloody famous to go anywhere without a media frenzy."

"Yes, he’s still in the car," Ginny added. Dawn glanced at her. If she hadn’t seen the woman’s face, she would have sworn it was Willow. Ginny Weasley was as slim and petite as Willow was. "And we better get back, cos we don’t want to look too suspicious, throwing all of us in one car...hi, Dawn! I’m Willow’s twin, Ginny," she held out a hand, which Dawn shook as she was hauled to her feet and they set on their way again. "Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"So where is he, sis?"

Ginny pointed to a Ford Anglia. Dawn’s eyes bugged for the hundredth time in minutes. "Omigod!" she squealed. "I thought it escaped!"

"This is the second one," Ron grinned. "It’s Fred and George’s for experimenting with. They turned it into a Port Key for today, though. We can’t all be seen travelling it, even if we want to be."

They hurried towards it, a man climbing out of the driving seat to open the boot for Dawn’s case.

The brothers started piling into the back seat of the car which was as wide two couches stuck together, while Dawn and Ron went to the back of the car to put Dawn’s luggage in.

"All right?" the man standing there said, giving Dawn a grin.

Holy crap, he was beautiful! And the smile only seemed to make him look even more like he had just stepped out of a commercial.

She almost melted, then she realised...

Realised just WHO she was staring at.

Black hair mussed and waving in the wind over a gorgeous face with a dazzling grin, emerald green eyes twinkling behind wire-framed glasses, a small, lightening shaped scar visible on his forehead...

"You...you’re Harry Potter..." she whispered.

That said, her eyes rolled in her head and she fainted.

Ron, luckily, had managed to catch her.

"Now why is it," he asked, giving his friend a dirty look. "That you’re the one that has this effect on women?"

"Stunning good looks?" Harry suggested, as Ron lifted the girl up.

"I’d say it was the bad breath," Ginny chuckled, holding the door open for Ron to climb in. "Honestly, Harry, you had to do the ‘I know I’m gorgeous, but just LOOK and see how gorgeous I am’ smile, didn’t you?"

"I just asked if she was all right," Harry mumbled. "Is it my fault I’m so bloody good-looking?"

"Well, if Ginny would let us, we could change that..." Fred offered, slapping a fist against his palm.

"You’re agreeing my husband is good-looking?" Ginny murmured, eyes twinkling.

"Shut up and sit down, Ginny. The car leaves in a minute."

Adjusting Dawn so she was comfortably positioned in Ron’s lap, her head on his shoulder, they shifted about until there was a pop and the Ford Anglia and it’s nine passengers vanished into thin air.

***

"Omigod! That has to be the coolest thing ever!" Harry and Ron exchanged looks, grinning. The American muggle was downright adorable. "I’ve been on the Hogwarts Express with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!"

She had been bouncing all over the compartment of the train for the full journey, pressing her nose against the windows as the countryside flitted by, as well as sticking her head out into the passageway regularly to check for the witch with the trolley.

Ron and Harry had tried to fill her in on the happenings of the wizarding world after the incidents of the tri-wizard tournament, so she knew where, when, what and how Voldemort had been defeated and what she could and couldn't say in front of people.

Ron was following her down onto the platform. "Wait until we get to the boats."

"The boats?" Dawn turned to look at him, as she climbed down from the train onto the platform. It was evening by the time they had reached Hogsmeade Station, the three-quarter-moon shining above them. The American girl had been given a set of Ginny’s deep blue robes, which she was wearing with delight, and they rustled around her in the light breeze that swept along the platform.

"HARRY!" the thunderous boom of a voice from further down the platform made the girl nearly jump out of her skin. "RON!" She swung around and saw who was speaking before they did.

"Hagrid!" she managed to gasp, staring.

"A’ righ’, you two?" Both Harry and Ron, at over six feet tall, were hardly light but the giant hoisted them both up in a warm hug that left their feet dangling a good foot off the ground. "An’ who is this?" he asked warmly, placing both men back on their feet.

Straightening his glasses, grinning, Harry brought Dawn beside them. "This is Dawn Summers, from America, Hagrid," he said. "She’s going to be staying at Hogwarts for a while."

"HOGWARTS!?!?"

Ron and Harry both groaned.

"I knew there was something we forgot to tell you," Ron said, shaking his head.

"I-I-I’m going to the Hogwarts?"

"Bet you anything she says ‘omigod’," Harry muttered. "Yes, Dawn, the wizard school you’re being sent to is Hogwarts."

"OMIGOD!"

"Good guess, Harry," Ron grinned. "You got the boats out and about, Hagrid?"

"Got enough for us," Hagrid was looking at Dawn with a twinkle in his black eyes, as he held out a massive hand to her. She managed to grip one giant finger with her whole hand. "Nice to meet yer, Miss Summers."

"Call me Dawn," she grinned up at him. "Do you like dragons?"

Once again, Ron and Harry groaned.

***

Dumbledore was seated at the teacher’s table, when the doors of the Great Hall opened. The evening feast was going on, so there were a few puzzled looks, because everyone was supposed to be in the Hall.

Glancing sidelong at the youngest Weasley, he met her eyes and nodded. The red head was on her feet in a heartbeat and her hands came to her face, as she ran around the edge of the Gryffindor table to the centre aisle.

"DAWNIE!"

At the far end of the hall, a nervous-looking brunette teenager’s mouth fell open and she started to run down the long hall, Willow running towards her, both of them laughing as they parodied several paces of slow-motion sprinting. "WILLOW!"

Crashing into each other’s arms half way up the hall, Willow hugged the younger girl tightly, then held her at arms length to examine her.

"Willow! Omigod, Willow!" Dawn was excitedly gripping Willow’s hands with her own. "We’re at Hogwarts!" She pointed to the roof. "OMIGOD! It’s just like in the books and with the ceiling! And the stars!" Her eyes went to the teachers table. "And Dumbledore and everybody!" Waving excitedly, she received smiles and waves from a brown-haired witch and a sandy-haired man. "This is so cool!"

"And look at you! All robey!" Willow tugged at the blue robes. "Did you steal these off Ginny?" Dawn nodded, grinning. "And my brothers...they didn’t scare you too much, did they?"

"They are so cool! I always wanted to meet the Weasleys and now you’re a Weasley! Oh! That reminds me! Ron! Harry!"

Willow gave a loud squeal of delight, when she saw her brother and brother-in-law in the doorway, running the rest of the length of the hall and throwing herself at both of them. "Harry! Ron!"

Both men went beetroot when she splattered kisses all over their faces, then grabbed Harry’s head between her two small hands and planted a very, very naughty looking kiss on him.

Many of the pupils were staring in shock.

So were many of the teachers.

Except Hermione and Lupin who looked like they were going to have embarrassing accidents if they didn’t get to a toilet very soon, both of them were laughing so hard at the stunned look on Harry’s face.

One of the greatest legends of their life times was standing at the top of the centre aisle of the Great Hall, scarlet in the face, being kissed in a more than just-good-friends-or-in-laws way by one of the other legends of their times.

Dumbledore, at the head of the hall, chuckled and clapped his hands. He managed to draw about a fifth of the audience’s attention.

"Yes," he called out. "We have some very special guests present today, and if Miss Weasley would be kind enough to disentangle her tongue from Mr Potter’s, we might be able to introduce them."

"Easy, tiger!" Ron hauled the grinning Willow off the scarlet Harry. "Does Ginny know you play tonsil-tennis with her Mister?"

"Can’t play tonsil tennis, Ron," she smirked. "No tonsils."

"And mum says you’re nice..."

The red-haired witch just laughed, looping her arm through her brother-in-law’s and her brother’s. Harry, however, shifted uncomfortably and straightened his glasses more times than was really necessary.

"What was that about?" Harry muttered to her, as she breezed down the aisle with them both.

"What? Oh! The whole me-licking-your-mouth-and-biting-your-ear?" Her eyes were twinkling naughtily at him. "Oh admit it, Harry, you’ve been meaning to leave Ginny for me since the first day you saw me..."

Harry’s mouth dropped open and the red that was fading from his cheeks returned full force, as they reached Dawn. "W-Willow..."

"I’m teasing, Harry," she laughed, leaning close to him, as she loosed her arm from Ron’s. "Although," she added in a husky murmur that made Harry’s brows ascend to his hairline. "You are a nummy treat..."

"What’s got into her?" Ron asked, shaking his head in his sister’s direction.

Dawn shot a look at the table where Willow had been sitting before she began her dash up the hall and snickered. "Oz, apparently."

Ron looked down at the girl beside him, then at his sister. "Eeuuurgh! That’s just given me an image I didn’t need before I eat!"

"I always wanted to hear how you said that," Dawn grinned up at him.

"What? That my sister shagging a wolf puts me off my dinner?" A few pupils gaped at him and he grinned at them. "Don’t worry!" he said importantly. "Famous Ron Weasley is allowed to have a gutter mouth and mind."

"Ron Weasley!" A Hufflepuff exclaimed, before going as red as Harry had.

Dawn giggled. "You know," she muttered to him conspiratorially. "With all these famous people around, I think its gonna be a real fun meal."

They came to a halt in front of Dumbledore at the head table, Dawn’s eyes growing enormous as she stared at him. He gave her a wink, as he stood up, visible to everyone in the Great Hall.

"As you can all say, we have been graced with the presences of Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley," he looked down at them both with fondness. "For those of you who do not know which is which, Ronald is the one with red hair, while Harry is the one with the red face."

"Git," Harry moaned.

"I try, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore muttered with a chuckle, then looked down at Dawn. "We also have a short term visitor with us from the United States of America and, as you saw, she is a friend of Miss Weasley’s," He motioned for her to step onto the step that the Teacher’s table stood on. "This is Miss Dawn Summers."

Waving around, Dawn was smiling so widely it felt as if her face would crack. "Hi!"

"She will be staying with Professor Granger and Miss Weasley, but may be attending some of your classes as an observer," Professor Dumbledore said, as she hopped down. A few teachers were leaning forward for a look at her. "I trust you will all make her welcome."

"WHOOHOO!" Someone yelled from the Gryffindor table. "Go Dawnie!"

"What has wolf-boy been slipping her?" Ron pondered aloud.

"Ron, if you don’t know that by now, I’m not gonna be the one to tell you," Dawn said, grinning.

Harry and Ron both turned horrified eyes on the girl. "Stop that!" Ron pointed a finger at her. "Stop that now!"

"Actually," a voice called from further down the teacher’s table. Hermione gave them a wave. "Willow’s just a little...um...exuberant, because they were doing some confidence charm work with her today..."

Ron, Harry and Dawn all nodded and said, "Ah..."

"See," Ron said primly to Dawn. "Nothing kinky at all."

Dawn cleared her throat loudly and nodded towards Willow, who was in a very intense lip-lock with her boyfriend. "Yes, Ron," she nodded sagely. "Willow is a good little witch who would never pull a werewolf’s tail..."

Ron and Harry both choked and went red.

Dumbledore actually giggled behind his hand.

By far the oddest sound, though, was the quiet chuckle from a man Dawn recognised as soon as she turned to see who had laughed.

Snape.

There was a wicked glint in his black eyes and he was smirking at Ron and Harry, who were both red in the face looking utterly horrified and flabbergasted by what Dawn had said.

Dawn smirked back at him. She couldn’t help it. She was a teenager and if she could embarrass people, then get Snape - evil, scary, loomy master of the cranky - to smirk and snigger at them...

Oh, boy, was she going to have fun!

***

"Oh God..." Willow’s charm had finally worn off and she was lying on her bed, her face buried in a pillow, her voice muffled. "Kill me now..."

Dawn grinned from where she was unpacking. "Why, Will? Its not like you did anything uber-embarrassing like...oh, I don’t know...sticking your tongue in Harry Potter’s mouth..."

The red head gave another anguished wail and shoved her head under her pillow, kicking her feet against the mattress. "I told them to leave me here! I told them not to take me anywhere!"

The brunette couldn’t help smiling.

She felt like she was home already.

After the meal - and Hermione prising Willow off Oz with a spell - she had been shown to the room she would be sharing with the two older witches, until she got settled enough to be fitted into one of the house rooms if she wanted when she had made some friends.

Apparently the room had been enlarged to fit a third four-poster bed into it. When she walked in the door, Dawn had been greeted by the end of her bed. Hermione’s stood to one side, Willow’s to the other.

It was incredible!

The bed was the most comfortable thing she had ever had, with thick, blue and gold blankets and she had thrown herself down on it and didn’t stop bouncing for a full two minutes.

Now, though, she was unpacking and placing her clothes into a chest of drawers beneath the window-seat, while trying not to get distracted by the fact she was - eep! - at Hogwarts!

"Knock-knock!"

"Ron!"

Ron grinned as he entered the room, then whistled. "Blimey...now I know why you never visit ho...Will? You are aware your head is being eaten by a pillow?"

"Go away," Willow moaned. "I’m dying of embarrassment under here."

Hermione squeezed past Ron with Oz, both of them carrying fresh towels and some supplies for Dawn. "She’s even worse than the time Dumbledore let her know that he knew she and Oz had been...er...cuddling outside on the far side of the lake..."

"Nooooooooooooo..." the moan came from under the pillows.

"Willow Weasley!" Ron gasped, looking scandalised. "You cuddled outside?"

Sitting up, her hair on end, Willow looked over at Hermione. "You know the Avada Kedavra thing, right?" She pointed at herself. "Willing test subject - do it. Kill me now and quickly, before anything else is mentioned."

"What about slippery nipple?" Oz murmured, eyes twinkling.

"WHAT!?!" Ron and Dawn both shrieked.

"Hemione! Why did you tell him about that?" Willow wailed in despair, flopping back on the bed and lifting the pillow over her face. "It’s what you need for opening a nun painting..."

"You have to have one? Cos if you need one, I’m pretty sure you could both ask Harry for a hand with that...or a tongue..."

"RON!" Both Hermione and Willow squealed and Ron marked a one tally in the air, grinning. Dawn was doubled over laughing, her cheeks and stomach hurting from laughing so much and so hard.

This was definitely way cooler than being stuck at home.


Chapter 30: The Key To Wolfy Goodness

"Omigod! This is so cool!"

Duncan Cameron, the brown-haired Gryffindor fourth year who had been assigned as Dawn Summers’ companion for her first day in class, flashed a grin at her. "Ye really say that a lot, don’t ye?"

The pair were walking up from the Great Hall, on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, which the brunette was looking forward to, just because she hadn’t had a chance to meet Professor Lupin yet.

Duncan was one of the first ones that had volunteered when Professor Granger had asked for someone to show Dawn around and the American muggle had been pleased to find out that he was cute and had a way too cute Scottish accent.

He was one of the few boys of her age who was taller than her, with a shaggy mop of dark brown hair, brilliantly blue eyes that seemed very pale compared to his tanned, brown as a berry face.

Apparently, he also played as one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He kind of made her think of a combination of Harry, Ron and one of the Weasley twins, but she didn’t know which. He had Harry’s kinda look and attitude, with Ron’s friendly grin and from the twins side of things...

Pranks.

Lots of them.

"Yeah? And?" She gave him her best petulant look, which melted away into a grin when he snickered at her. "Well, it is cool! I mean I’m at Hogwarts! School for witches and wizards!"

"Aye," Duncan raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Its still just a school."

"Just a school?" she echoed. "JUST a school? Duncan! It’s Hogwarts!"

"And?"

"AND?!?"

Blue eyes twinkled at her. "What?"

"Oh, you...you...boy!"

"Glad to see ye noticed," he remarked, nodding into the classroom. "And this is where we’re headed, Miss Summers," She arched a brow at him. "All righ’, all righ’, then Dawn."

"Thank you, Duncan," she said with mock-sweetness, following him into the room which was empty but for the teacher writing on the blackboard, behind the desk at the far end of the room.

A dozen rows of old-fashioned, wooden desks crossed the room with an aisle down the middle, which Duncan promptly lead her down, towards the back of the teacher, who turned as they approached.

He was a tired-looking man, who Dawn recognised immediately. Greying sandy hair flopped over a forehead that was lined with premature age and weariness, but his pale blue-grey eyes were alert and shining with energy his body - clad in patched and frayed robes - didn’t seem capable of possessing.

"Ah, Cameron," Lupin murmured, his eyes moving from the boy to Dawn. She saw the barely perceptible lift of one of his eyebrows, as he studied her, then he smiled and held out a hand. "Miss Summers."

"God! Doesn’t anyone use first names here?" she rolled her eyes, but shook his hand anyway. "Can you...you know...call me Dawn? I’m not real used to all that Miss Summers stuff. It makes me sound way old."

"I’m sure I can try that, Dawn," Lupin’s tiny smile widened a little. "Now, perhaps you would like to sit with Mr Cameron. I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to let you share his books."

Duncan went scarlet and Dawn grinned. "That’d be great."

***

"I know this one! I know this one!" Remus Lupin looked down at the Summers girl in amusement, where she was seated in the second row. She was waving an arm in the air and was practically standing up off the seat. "I know it!"

Several of the other fourth years looked surprised and put out that a muggle was wiping the floor with their general knowledge of demons, but in particular, one kind of demon that they had been discussing.

"Yes, Mi...Dawn?"

"Four of the regular ways of killing a vampire," she replied eagerly, sitting back down, her eyes dancing. "Are a stake through the heart, cutting it’s head off, setting it on fire or making it drink Holy Water!"

"How do you make a vampire drink Holy Water?" one of the Slytherin boys sneered from three rows behind.

"Well, duh, lame-ass," Dawn turned to glare at him. "You make sure he needs to take his meds, then put Holy Water in the glass when he isn’t looking and when he drinks it, he’ll go all dusty."

"As if that kind of muggle trick would work," one of the boy’s neighbours said.

Dawn Summers’ blue eyes flashed and she clenched her hands on the desk in front of her. "It did too work!" she exclaimed hotly, then blushed when she realised all eyes were on her. "She told me all about it!"

"Who?"

"Uh..." An anguished look crossed the American girl’s face, then she glared at the Slytherin boy. "I...I don’t need to tell you, you dork!"

"Miss Summers," Lupin’s calm voice intervened. "Perhaps you could inform give us some more details about the other methods of slaying a vampire. A stake through the heart, for example. Can you describe how that works?"

"But he..."

"Miss Summers," Lupin repeated gently. "I would suggest that you ignore his attempts to aggravate you. Now, we are all on the edges of our seats. How would you go about staking a vampire?"

Dawn looked down, a little embarrassed, her eyes falling on the pencil lying on the desk in front of her, rolling it under her fingers. "I-I did hear of someone who staked a vampire with a number two pencil..."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm...she got caught by this wacko-girl. My sister doesn’t think I know about it, but I do and they had vampires and..." Lupin sat back with a small smile as the dark-haired girl started to tell the tale he had heard from Willow not so long before, the class riveted.

Even the Slytherins were paying close attention, he was amused to note.

***

"And what, pray tell, are you doing here?"

Dawn blinked up at the tall, glowering black-garbed man. "Uh..." She had so many ideas for witty answers, so many quick come-backs, so many teenagerisms, but now, her mind felt as useful as a bag of cotton wool, black eyes glittering down at her.

"A quiet student...or a stupid one. What a refreshing change," Sarcasm dripped off the words in nigh-visible ropes.

"Hey! I’m not stupid!" Dawn exclaimed.

"That remains to be seen," Snape murmured, folding his arms over his chest. He was blocking the narrow doorway of the dungeon and beyond him, she could see Duncan helplessly shrugging that he couldn’t do anything.

She didn’t really like the idea of being left out in the long, dark corridor, especially without someone to tell her how to get back to the picture that lead up to the room she shared with Willow and Hermione.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

"I asked a question of you, Miss Summers. I would... appreciate an answer."

"Can you...uh...kinda stop glowering for a minute? Its making it kinda hard for me to think"

One dark eyebrow rose a little, as if questioning how she dared to even ask him such a thing. "Miss Summers, my facial expression bears no relation to your inability to form a cognizant thought."

"Uh-huh...have you tried thinking when there’s a creepy big guy doing the loomy, dark and evil thing over you?" She paused, seeming to remember something she had been told about him. "Uh...never mind..."

"Miss Summers, you have not answered the question."

"Uh...well," she stammered, trying to find a rational train of thought, staring down at her feet uncomfortably. "I’m meant to go everywhere with Duncan today and I...uh...I guess since he...he...uh...he came down here, I had to come with him."

"Such an enchanting stammer you have..."

Dawn shot an embarrassed glare up at him, but was greeted by an amused gleam in the black eyes. Her arms instinctively folded across her chest in basic glare-posture, her stance almost mirroring his.

So he was toying with her?

Pursing her lips, she glared right back at him. "Let me in."

"Do you have a reason to be present, Miss Summers?" He slowly raised his brows, one side of his mouth lifting in a sneer.

Dawn almost snorted aloud. Hello! One of her best friends was a vampire, for God’s sake! She wasn’t going to be scared of a big, loomy human in a black dress. "You mean apart from hanging out and bugging the crap out of you?" she suggested.

Both sides of his mouth twitched, as if he were about to smile, but he thinned his lips in a line. "Well, well, Miss Summers," he remarked. "It appears that you do have a tongue in your head after all."

"Yeah," She stuck it out at him. "Thee."

"How very mature," he said. "I could well use that in a potion. How would that suit you Miss Summers?"

"I’d like to see you try it," She grinned up at him. She couldn’t help it. This was Snape? He of the terrifying reputation that she had read about? He was just like Spike with greasy black hair and black eyes. Spike had threatened to rip her tongue out on more occasions than she could count, when she pulled faces at him and when he knew Buffy wasn’t listening, which only made Dawn stick it out even more. "But I don’t think Dawn-tongue-soup is gonna be a big seller."

There it was again!

That odd glint in his eyes, as if he was about to smile or even laugh.

"Sooooo..." She tapped a foot impatiently. "You gonna let me in already or do I have to go and cry to Professor Dumbledore that you’re being mean to me?"

Stepping aside, Snape smirked down at her. "I do have need of an assistant, Miss Summers," he murmured for her ears only. "Alas, it may result in you being shape-shifted, but I’m sure you shall be willing to risk it."

"Nuh-uh!" She pointed a finger up at him. "You turn me into anything icky and I will so kick your ass!" He looked down at her, reminding her that she barely reached his shoulder in height. "Okay, maybe your ankle..."

Snape made a dismissive gesture with one callused hand. "Join your classmate, Miss Summers," he said quietly, his eyes boring down on her. "Or I will be forced to have you test my potions. Personally."

As she hurried over to join the nervous-looking Duncan, Dawn shot a smirk back at Snape, as he stormed towards the front of the class. It went unnoticed by the rest of the class, who were hastily arranging their potions ingredients.

Sweeping to his desk, he slowly sat, gazing coolly at her.

Then, to her surprise, he inclined his head with the barest suggestion of a smile and looked away from her, at the register.

"What was he sayin’ to ye, Dawn?" Duncan whispered.

"He said he was gonna use my tongue in a potion."

"Oh my gawd..." The boy went whitish green.

Dawn grinned. "I think he was joking, Duncan."

"Dawn, Snape and jokes...they’re two things that never ever meet. Ever."

"Well, if he does take my tongue, I’ll tell you first."

"Dawn..."

"Yuh-huh?"

Duncan shook his head. "Never mind," he replied.

***

"So you had fun?"

"Omigod! Yes!"

Hermione, lying on her belly on her bed, was marking scrolls. She glanced at the bed were Dawn and Willow were sitting, talking about the younger girl’s day. "And you managed to survive potions, unlike the famous missing Weasley?"

"Shut up, Hermi," Willow stuck her tongue out.

"Lowlow..."

"Don’t call me that!"

Hermione gave her roommate a prim look. "Well, then, don’t call me Hermi."

Willow sniffed, looking very put out. "I thought it was kinda cute..." she mumbled, pouting down at Dawn, who couldn’t help laughing, then stuck her tongue out at Hermione again.

The youngest Weasley and Dawn Summers were both clad in their loose pyjamas, Dawn’s red and Willow’s pale green, comparing notes on different classes. Dawn was lying on the bed, looking up at the red head and she grinned.

"I did that to Snape," she said.

"And he didn’t...y’know...go all scary on you?"

"Well, he did say he wanted to use my tongue in a potion..." she said. "But he was joking. I think he thinks I’m funny," she pensively tapped her pen on the cover of her diary. "Funny in a ha-ha way, not funny in a ‘back away slowly and try and find a weapon’ way."

"That makes two of you to get on Snape’s good side, then," Hermione remarked. "I think that has to be some kind of record."

"I bet he’d get on great with Buffy," Dawn muttered. "Her and skanky men in black always seem to get on well...Angel, Dracula..."

"D-Dracula? The Dracula?"

Both Willow and Dawn looked over at the brown-haired witch on the other bed. "I forgot to tell you that Dracula showed up in Sunnydale?" Willow gave the older witch an apologetic look. "I got a letter about him from Buffy...I thought I told you."

"No...no, you never mentioned it..." Hermione looked a little stunned. "Dracula is real? I mean, I knew vampires existed, but I never knew that Dracula was a real one, especially since he was so famous..."

"That’s why he went to Sunnydale," Willow grinned broadly. "Because Buffy was almost as famous as him in the demon world. He had to try and beat her, to show that he was the ultimate King-of-Badness. She staked him twice and she still doesn’t know if he’s gone."

"Speaking of gone, where’s Oz?" Dawn inquired.

Willow nodded towards the window, where the moon was peeking through a chink in the thick, dark drapes that shielded the lighter gauzy ones. "Full moon tonight, so he thinks he’ll be a bit safer being away from us."

"There’s an understatement if ever I heard one," Hermione muttered, rolling up the last of the scrolls and bundling them into her teaching bag. "A werewolf being safe around people..."

"You’ve never seen Oz at the full moon? I thought he had been here a while!" Dawn stared at her. "He’s learned neat new tricks! He doesn’t even have to turn into the wolfy thing anymore."

Hermione looked up, slowly coming onto her knees on the bed. "He can...control the wolf?" she asked faintly.

"Yuh-huh!"

"I-I’ve never seen him do it, but he told me he can," Willow affirmed. "He doesn’t trust himself to be in full control around all of us, though. He didn’t want to risk any of us getting hurt."

"Didn’t he say he was going to see Remus?"

"Yeah..."

"All I have to say is that it’s awfully lucky that Remus has a constant supply of wolfsbane potion," Hermione said seriously. "Or else Oz would probably have a real fight on his hands."

Willow’s face twisted in distress. "Remus wouldn’t hurt Oz..."

"Remus wouldn’t, but the wolf might..."

"Nuh-uh! Remus can control it too!" Dawn protested. "That’s what the wolfsbane potion does. I read about it!" Both older witches looked at her, then Willow started to giggle, a little hysterically. "Wha?"

Pointing at Hermione, the red head laughed. "That’s what she always said!"

"Not always!"

"Most of the time!"

"But I’m right," Dawn interrupted again. "Wolfsbane potion means his mind stays in control. Oz’ll be fine and he’ll tell Professor Lupin how to do the no-wolfy-thing and everything’ll be great!"

"You...you think so?"

Dawn nodded. "Definitely."

***

Carefully pushing open the door of the office, Oz’s face was washed in a strange sheen of blue from the full moon, through the window. He looked around the room, immediately spotting the form of the man he had come to see.

A large desk stood near the left wall, the shelves on the opposite wall piled with all manner of books and files. A rug was spread on the main part of the wooden floor, a couple of upturned seats pushed into the corner out of harm’s way.

It was on that rug that the man he had come to visit lay.

The large werewolf was lying on his belly on the floor, his muzzle resting on his forepaws. The moonlight played across the fur of his back as it rose and fell with each breath Lupin took.

He looked like he was asleep, at peace, his whiskers twitching occasionally. His bushy tail swept from side to side on the rug, his claws making soft clicking noises on the wooden floor as he stirred.

"How’s it going?" Oz spoke softly.

His assumption that Lupin was - in fact - awake proved to be accurate. Pain-filled amber eyes slowly flickered opened and the wolf’s head rose, staring up at the youth at the door.

Lupin’s jaw dropped, revealing twin rows of yellowish fangs and his head swung sharply to look out at the full moon that was gleaming through the window, then back at Oz’s face.

Rising slowly, he padded painfully across the room, limping on one forepaw, towards the younger werewolf, circling him curiously.

Halting in front of the rainbow-haired young man, he sank down on his haunches, tilting his head to the side, wishing that he could actually convey all the questions that he longed to ask.

Oz went down on one knee, running a hand over Lupin’s head.

"You want to know why I’m not all fuzzy, right?" The werewolf nodded mournfully, looking down at his own furred limbs. "Tibetan monks."

If he could have, Lupin would have raised an eyebrow.

Instead, though, he looked away from this youth, feeling something strangely akin to shock and anger. Not directed at the boy, but at himself.

Making his way back across the floor, he moved around in a circle, before curling up on the rug, his no-longer wagging tail pulling in tightly against his thigh, reflecting the moroseness that had descended on him.

"You never learned how to, I guess," Oz stood up. "It took a long time," He looked down at the werewolf. Lupin looked away, turning onto his side and staring at the wall opposite him, the moonlight on his face. "Hurt as much as the change at first, but you get used to it."

Shrugging his jacket off, Oz turned and hung it on the peg on the back of the door, then returned his attention to Lupin, who was staring blindly at a knot of wood on the skirting board in front of him.

Crossing the floor, the younger werewolf disentangled one of the chairs from the pile in the corner and placed it on the floor.

Sitting down on it, pulling one foot under his body, he gazed up at the gleaming moon pensively, the multiple panes in the frame making dozens of small images of the white orb dance across the frame and ledge.

"I hated it for a long time. Knowing what was coming," His voice was low, quiet. "I thought about killing myself too. Imagine." He shook his head sadly. "For three nights of Hell a month, I was willing to die."

He fell silent, touching the charms and beads that had been placed along specific lines of his body by his tutor at the monastery. He wore them constantly, to control and contain the wolf.

Sometimes they hurt, like this night, when the moon was at its peak.

Blood often came too, when his body struggled with the beast inside.

Usually, it came from the skin untouched by beads and wards, where the wolf was trying to break through in small areas. He was used to it now, but that did not make it any less painful.

A whimper of pain from the wolf on the floor made him look up, startled by the sound in the silence that had surrounded them.

"Professor Lupin?" The huge shaggy head shook in dissent that anything was wrong, eyes closed. The face turned away from his in an attitude of pain and a struggle not to show it. "Professor?"

A cautioning growl escaped the shuddering wolf.

Ignoring it, Oz knelt quickly and laid his hand on the wolf’s heaving ribcage and frowned slightly. Something told him that no werewolf should ever be as cold as this one was feeling.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly, looking around for something to cover the shivering werewolf. Lupin nodded slightly, raising a trembling forepaw which was hanging at a very odd angle. "The change happened too soon?" Again, the big wolf nodded to him. "This may hurt."

There was a dull click as Lupin’s bones shifted beneath the youth’s hand and then slipped into place. Lupin whimpered quietly, lowering his paw back to the floor, the pain still throbbing in his limb.

Oz had fallen silent, but for the clicking of beads and charms as he sank back from the werewolf. Looking down at his bloody fingers, he inhaled a shaking breath, recalling the chill he could feel in Lupin’s body.

No wonder the man always looked so ill after the nights of the full moon.

"You’re cold," he said, staring to rise to retrieve the robes hanging on the peg near the door where his own jacket hung, but the Professor’s heavy paw halted him, the wolf’s head shaking. "But you need to stay warmer."

Mentally sighing, Lupin nodded to his patched, tattered and frayed robes that the young man was intending to go and get. Already, they looked like they could be mended no further.

"Your only robes?" The wolf nodded, looking away. His fur rippled as Oz patted his shaking shoulder in a gesture of comfort. It was at the moment that a thought crossed the younger wolf’s mind and he almost smiled faintly, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before.

He loosened the charms at his wrists and ankles, reaching up to deposit them on the chair. The only one that would remain was that at his throat, that prevented his mind from becoming wolfish.

On the floor, Lupin’s ear twitched at a strange crackling sound and he lifted his head, about to struggle to look over his shoulder when he felt a warm, furry form press against his back, the warmth spreading to his own freezing body.

A soft growl against his ear made him start in astonishment.

That boy, that remarkable, quiet young man, had cast aside his ability to be free of the wolf, to keep him - Lupin - warm. He had partaken of the painful transformation just to make sure he wasn’t cold.

A wide, heavily-furred chest pressed against Lupin’s back and he felt limbs wrap around his protectively. For the first time since he had started using the wolfsbane potion, the freezing in his bones seemed to thaw and he felt himself relaxing slowly.

A small bark of gratitude escaped him and he felt Oz’s wolf-like muzzle rubbing reassuringly against his shoulder as he let sleep come, for the first time since he could recall as a werewolf.

Burying his muzzle snugly against Lupin’s shoulder, Oz yawned and - as the moon reached its peak in the clear sky - the beams of light played across two sleeping werewolves, curled together and dead to the world on the floor of the office of the teacher of Defence Against The Dark Arts.

***

When the first fingers of sunlight crept through the windows and softly touched Lupin’s peaceful, sleeping face, he grumbled softly, too comfortable and warm to be bothered to move.

However, it was that very comfort and warmth that made his eyes snap open, as he realised that he was not alone.

A slim, fur-free arm was looped around his body, holding him against a smooth, warm chest. His head was resting on another arm and he could feel his limbs were tangled between those of the younger wolf.

Moving slowly, so as not to wake his companion, the teacher eased himself from the younger werewolf’s protective blanket of an embrace, moving onto his other side to look at the peacefully sleeping teenager.

Rising quickly, the Professor made his way across to his desk, retrieving his wand and conjuring some blankets, returning to place them around the youth, so as not to embarrass him more than was necessary.

Normally, he would savour the warmth of the morning sun on his skin, but now, he dressed quickly in his tattered robes and quickly sat down at the desk. He found himself hoping that the boy was all right, watching, while he tried to force his focus to the essays he had to mark.

Unfortunately, all thoughts of essays fled from his mind when he heard a yawn from the blanket-wrapped figure on the floor and he saw a shock of rainbow hair rising from the snug nest.

"You woke up before me, huh?" the boy remarked, getting to his feet and holding the blankets around his body. "Either that, or you're a very neat werewolf."

"Neat?" Lupin couldn't think of anything else to say, staring at the young boy. How on Earth could he be so relaxed, so calm and so cheerful - or at least he seemed to be so relaxed - after a night of being the wolf?

"Yeah. I've never known any werewolf that could tuck blankets so neatly around somebody with its paws," A suggestion of a smile appeared on the boy's face. "How do you feel, Professor?"

"Me? I-I'm fine, thank you. You?"

Oz looked down at his blanket-wrapped body, then shrugged slightly. "I'm fur-free, so I'm good," Turning, the twenty-one-year-old walked towards the window and peered out at the grounds. "Nice day."

"It is," There was a long silence and Lupin looked down at the papers on his desk, fingering his quill pensively. "Um…Daniel?" The boy was touching the glass, the sun washing over his face. "Daniel?"

"Oh!" Turning, Oz smiled faintly at him. "Sorry, Professor. I haven't been called by that name for a while." He returned to the desk, pulling over one of the seats from the corner and sitting down.

Lupin folded his callused hands on the surface of his desk, staring fixedly at his knuckles for several minutes.

"Daniel, I wanted to ask…that is, if you don't mind me asking you…" raising his eyes, he nervously asked. "Do you think I could learn to control the wolf like you have?"

"It isn't hard once you learn how to, Professor."

"Remus. Please, call me Remus."

The corner of Oz's mouth lifted.

"Remus," He seemed to be testing how the word felt in his mouth. "How about you call me Oz?"

"I-I can do that," Lupin nodded. "Where did..."

"Tibet," Oz replied, pre-empting the question when Lupin fell silent. Somehow, his and Lupin’s minds worked in similar ways and they often found they didn’t even have to wait for the other to finish a sentence.

Willow had found it hugely disconcerting.

"Bit out of the way, isn’t it?"

"Beautiful, though. Mountains...so calming..."

Lupin’s lips lifted slightly. "Like we need it."

"Everyone does," Oz met Lupin’s eyes, as he spoke. "They have a commune there... for ones like us."

There was a long, comfortable silence, during which both men looked towards the window and the sun streaming down onto the wooden floor where they could see the marks of claws in the wood.

"Oz, may I...?"

"Ask away."

"Are you going back?"

Oz nodded once. "The more you study, the more control you have," he said softly. "Kinda like magic, I guess. It gets less painful each time...and there, everything is about the peace...gotta love the peace..."

Lupin smiled, understanding that feeling which was so different to every emotion that tore through him at the full moon, to have a quiet smile returned to him by the young man on the other side of the desk.

"Could I...? That is, if you don’t mind."

The younger werewolf gazed back at him. "It’d be...different. Someone I know. Someone who speaks the same language." He cocked his head. "When?"

"As soon as possible."

"Will you tell them?"

Lupin looked down at his hands that were folded on the desk, the sun glinting off the silver strands of hair on the back of his folded hands. "I would have to. They would need to find someone."

"You want to?"

"If it means I can go without the wolf."

They both fell silent for a moment, then Oz sighed, "Willow..."

"She...she won’t be too pleased?"

"Given. She knows long-distance is hard, but...God. I didn’t want to do this to her again," He released a soft breath, a wrinkle appearing in his smooth brow. "She knew that I would be leaving again. I did too. We pretended it wasn’t going to happen."

Lupin bowed his head. "Shall we tell them?"

Oz nodded, looking a little sad, his pale eyes on his hands, which were resting in his lap. "Best to do it now. It’ll make it harder if we put it off," he sighed. "She deserves more. If I tell her...maybe she’ll find it. With someone else."

The older werewolf could sense the pain that saying those words caused the younger wolf. Despite the young man’s stoic face, he could literally see the young wolf’s heart shattering through his eyes.

Tilting his head, he asked quietly. "You’re sure you want to do this?"

Oz raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long sigh.

"It has to be done," he said quietly. "I can’t stay. I never could. Even if I wanted to, there’s too much of the wolf in me. I can’t make her live with it. I would prefer to explain it now, while we still at least have a friendship than break her heart in the long run. Bitterness isn’t good."

Lupin gave him a sympathetic nod.

"I’ll find Dumbledore. He probably knows already, but I should tell him..."

Together, they rose, Oz returning to his seat to retrieve his clothing, while Lupin made his way to the door.

"See you at dinner?"

Oz nodded, giving him a tired smile.

"Good luck."

"You too."

***

"I-I-I understand."

"Willow..."

Tears spilled from her green eyes down her cheeks that were almost chalk-white, her hands resting limply between his. "You...I thought you had come back...to stay...not to go away again..." she whispered. "But I-I-I guess...I guess if this is important...you should go...do it..."

"I didn’t want to hurt you, Willow, but last night...I saw what I must look like...what I really am, when I saw Remus," Oz’s hands cupped her face. They were sitting on her double bed, sunlight washing in over bother of them. "You...we both know that it can’t work...I’m too much the wolf...you deserve someone...someone normal."

"What if I don’t want normal, Oz?"

"Willow, please..." He brought their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "I want you to have a chance to be happy. To find someone who can love you as much as I do, but who won’t have to be caged...who won’t have this...beast inside them..."

"But I love you, Oz," she whispered, her tears burning against his hands, one of hers coming up to grasp his wrist. "I don’t care about the wolf...you said you can...you control it...you said you can!"

"I did and I can," he agreed softly. "But it is powerful. One day, it will break free and I don’t want you to get hurt when it does," Her other hand rose to touch his face, capturing the tears rolling silently down. "I love you too much for that."

"But I’ll be able to stop you! I will! I-I don’t want you to go, Oz..." Her eyes sought out his desperately. "Please?"

"If you had to," He brought her hands down in his, meeting her tear-filled gaze. His voice was shaking with emotion. "If I did lose control, if I was about to harm you, if nothing else worked, would you be able to kill me?"

"Oz..."

"Would you?" he demanded again, a core of steel in his words.

Willow lowered her eyes, shaking her head. He barely heard her breathe the single word. "No."

A deep silence fell, only broken by the quiet sobs of the red-haired witch.

Leaning forward, Oz brought her bowed head down and touched his lips to her silky mass of flaming hair, his pale eyes pressed closed to stem his tears as he embraced her once more.

"I love you," he whispered softly. "I always will. Never forget that."

Raising her eyes to him, she touched his face, as if memorising every feature, one last time. "I know," she answered, her voice raw and shaking, tears still rolling down her flushed cheeks. "I love you too, Oz. Always."

Capturing her face between his hands, he kissed her once more, her arms wrapping around him as he drew her closer, all their grief and emotion poured into that meeting of their lips.

Slowly, reluctantly pulling back, he tenderly stroked a tear-soaked lock of her red hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering briefly. Both of them smiled wanly at the contact and she tilted her head to kiss his palm as he drew away.

"I love you, Will," he murmured once more, before rising off the bed, his fingertips lingering against hers as he stepped back. Then, turning, he walked from the room without looking back, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

In her bedroom, Willow Weasley turned onto her side, buried her face in a pillow and sobbed as she felt her heart shatter in her chest.

***

"I am sorry to see you going."

Lupin nodded. "I would stay, Head Master, but this opportunity..."

"You have already waited too long for it?" Dumbledore suggested gently. Remus Lupin nodded, glancing at the young man standing next to him. They were standing on the front steps of the castle, the sunlight washing over them. "I can assure you both that we will take care of Miss Weasley for you."

"Thank you," Oz’s voice broke and he fell silent. His eyes were on the creamy stone of the steps beneath his feet, his face pale and drawn. Like Lupin, his clothing was dishevelled and his colourful hair stood in wild spikes over his face.

"Hermione and Dawn were with her when I went to say goodbye," Remus said, one hand on Oz’s shoulder, in a wordless gesture of comfort. "I think they will be the best people for her to have around for now."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "She needs to have some friends around her at this time," he said, a thoughtful look on his face. "And now...now, I have to go to the trouble of finding a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"Severus..."

"Remus, you know very well that Severus will never hold that position as long as we have need of a potions master," Dumbledore said calmly. "And I already have a first choice of Professor, if I can convince her. After all, her presence would be a great aid in this situation..."

The younger werewolf lifted his blood-shot eyes. "Professor, are...would you be able to do that?"

"Of course, Mr Osbourne," the wizard said. His eyes twinkled briefly. "After all, I am the Head Master."

Daniel Osbourne managed a weak smile. "I-I think that would help Willow a lot," he said, then fell silent again.

"Yes..." Dumbledore extended a hand, which both werewolves shook. "Yes, Ii rather expect it might. Now, you do have shelter for tonight? I believe the moon will rise fairly early."

"Sirius was arranging everything, Head Master," Remus replied. "We’re meeting him at Hogsmeade."

"Very good," Stepping back, Dumbledore nodded to the horseless carriage that was rapidly trundling towards them. "I bid you a safe journey," he said. "And I would be less than delighted if you did not keep in contact."

"We’ll send you postcards, Professor," Lupin smiled. "Take care."

"And you."

Remaining where he was, Dumbledore watched the pair ascend into the carriage, the younger of the two casting a longing look back in the direction of the tower, where he knew Willow Weasley was residing.

The carriage door closed and it rumbled off into the afternoon light, leaving the head Master of Hogwarts standing on the castle steps, a ponderous look on his face.

If he remembered correctly, the time in America would be approximately seven o’clock in the morning, at least in the region he needed to get in contact with, which was a fairly respectable time.

Smoothing his rich robes down, he cast a brief look up at Gryffindor tower.

Yes, the sooner he set off, the better.

He would inform Minerva and then...

Then, he had to go and offer a powerful young woman the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

 

 

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