Harry Potter and the Guardians of the Origin

Chapter 10- Control

He was only able to savor the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for what seemed a millisecond; she stepped back suddenly, glanced at him ever so fleetingly, and ran from the theatre. He thought he might have called out her name but could not find his voice.

Hollow with rejection, he started to walk out of the theatre. He tripped over something at his feet. Staring at it in confusion, he picked up the book that had been the focus of his attention for seemingly the last two days. He flipped through the pages, which were just as inscrutable to him as ever, and ran his fingers across the worn emblazoned cover. Deciding he would tackle the mystery when he got home, Harry continued his exit from the theatre, book stored in his coat.

Buffy sat numbly on the subway back to the apartment. She felt as though she had awakened from a dream to a nightmare; she, Buffy, had kissed the first boy that came along after Angel. Harry made it all too easy to forget Angel. When he made her laugh, when he smiled at her bright-eyed, when he protected her, the weight on her shoulders that she deserved to carry vanished. And that was her greatest fear. All she had left of Angel was the pain, and if that went away, so did he.

She walked into her apartment sullenly a quarter hour later to find Harry sitting on the couch watching TV.

"How did you get home so quickly?" she asked reflexively.

"Magic," said Harry dryly, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Buffy stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then she started, "Harry, it's not you--"

"Do me a favor and don't finish that. I don't want to talk about it. I promise in the morning we can pretend nothing happened. Just leave me alone tonight. At least give me that." Harry said flatly. He did not look at her.

Torn between the sting of his anger and the weight of her guilt, she remained in the room for a minute, a million things to say running through her head. She turned and went quickly into her room.

Harry remained staring at the screen for a moment. Suddenly the tension went out of his body and he ducked his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Later on that night, he would hear faint sobs coming from Buffy's room, and he trained himself not to care.

Buffy woke up the next morning to the customary scent of Harry cooking pancakes. She hesitated for a moment before leaving her room, but, lacking another choice, she opened her door and walked to the counter.

"Morning," chimed Harry. He wore a smile that somehow lacked its usual warmth.

"Hey," she said quietly. He handed her a plate of pancakes. She looked at him, but he wasn't meeting her eye. She said tentatively, "You know, you really don't have to do this."

"Nonsense," he replied cheerily. "I was starved. The food in movie realities just isn't what it used to be." Buffy was still unsure of what to say. He continued in that same empty, cheery voice, "By the way, something followed us home." He pointed to the ancient text lying on the coffee table.

"That's...that's really weird," Buffy said puzzled and wary of the unnatural.

"Agreed. It's still unreadable, but I guess we may as well keep it around. You know, if we're ever really late to work, that teleportation stuff might be useful," he mumbled as he chewed a bite of pancake.

"Yeah," replied Buffy distractedly, who had picked up the book and was flipping through the pages. "We should hide it."

"Because of the undiplomatic robed men?"

"If by undiplomatic, you mean inclined to stab me in the shoulder with a big sword, yes, those ones. I really didn't like them."

It had dawned on Harry that there might be more to the book than it seemed, and he understood the potential dangers it held. Now that they were out of the movie, he assumed Buffy lacked the skills to protect herself.

"I can go stash it in a locker at the subway station while you're at your morning shift. That way it won't be around to attract trouble," he said.

Buffy considered this, wondering if she should keep it around to protect it. She decided it would be too much of a danger to Harry when she wasn't around. "Yeah," she answered, "That sounds good. Just make sure no one sees you do it."

"Ok. You better leave soon," Harry said, pointing to the clock, "You'll be late."

"Yep. Thanks," she said, and went into her bedroom.

Harry stared at the door and let out the sigh that had been building since she walked out of her room. He looked at the book. He had decided that he would transfigure it into something he could keep on his person. It had proved far too valuable to dangerous men to be left in a locker.

"Mutiata," said Harry, wand out and pointing at the book. After Buffy had left, Harry had rechecked the correct transfiguration spell. He had nearly mastered it the week before when he had changed a chair into a hat and back again. The spell involved picturing an object changing into whatever form you wanted, and therefore it was very versatile. It could only be used to change objects into other objects, however. This time, he pictured the book changing into a belt, and again succeeded. Fastening it around himself, he sank onto the couch, running his hand through his hair warily.

He had found that learning magic on his own was surprisingly easier than at school. He had more motivation to learn without the monotony of classes wearing down the novelties of casting different spells. Though Buffy could never have guessed it, he hadn't been lying when he told her that he used magic to get home the previous night. The value of apparition was not lost on him; he had begun practicing it as soon as he moved into the apartment and had become mildly skilled in it.

Today, however, it was a mere distraction for him: something to get the memory of her lips and breath and skin out of his head.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat on a plush green chair in the same dungeon-like room in which he had attended Hermione the day before, a pile of books at his feet. He seemed perfectly content to pretend Hermione was not sitting across the room, sitting on the floor, wrists chained, glaring at him.

"You could at least let me read one of those books," Hermione said impetuously.

Draco looked up, annoyed at being interrupted. He tried not to stare at Hermione, who once again was luxuriously and scantily clad. "I doubt you'd be interested, they're full of dark magic and evil, evil things," he taunted.

"Well, fine then, but I'm not going to shut up. I can pretty much recite the first chapter of Hogwarts, a History, if need be."

"Try that, mudblood, and I'll put a silencing charm on you that asphyxiates your lungs every time you try to speak," Draco threatened.

Hermione, perceiving that she needed to try a different route, summoned her most desperate tone and begged, "Draco, please. I'm so bored over here. Please just bring me a book?"

Draco looked at her for a moment, rolled his eyes, picked up a book, and walked towards her. She stood up against the wall. As he handed her the book, she smiled, then took it in both hands and swung it up into his face as hard as she could.

"AGH!" Draco yelled as her grabbed his now bloody nose. She threw her chains around him and kicked him hard between the legs, knocking him to the ground. This gave her time to dig in his robe pocket and grab his wand. In one deft movement, she had unchained herself and re-chained Draco, who now lay against the wall, panting and bloody.

"Thank you," Hermione said, turning around and walking towards the door.

"I wouldn't do that, ugh, if I were you," Draco groaned. "Door's warded. Dark Lord will be there before you take two steps."

Hermione paused and looked back at him. "And I'm just supposed to trust you on that?"

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway, you'll only be you for what, another thirty minutes?" he said, leaning up straighter against the wall. He caught the confused look on her face and felt he had won.

"You're right," she answered, "It would be entirely futile to try to escape." Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh well, at least it'll get you in trouble," she said cheerily, turning back towards the door.

"Wait!" Draco called. "Don't. I'm--I'm asking you not to. Please."

Hermione stared at him, for a moment, then walked towards him. "What was that you said?"

He glared up at her, chin raised, hoping she would come close enough for him to get at her. She did not. He gritted his teeth. "Please."

"Very well then. I will not make your life a living hell, if you give me some information. And if I think for a second you're making it up, I'll hex your limbs off, one at a time," she said with a little more confidence than she actually had. "Tell me everything you know about what they are doing to me."

Draco hesitated, then gave a resigned sigh. "I don't know much. Dolohov hit you with some kind of charm that allowed them to get inside your head. They've made you into someone else."

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked genuinely frightened.

"They call her Sephissa, and she is, from what I can tell, very loyal to the Dark Lord. You regress back to yourself once a day, but the duration is slowly shortening. I think they want to use her to get at Potter or something."

"So, when Voldemort said I was fading out of existence, he wasn't lying?" she asked quietly.

Draco, as much as he loathed her, suddenly felt sorry for her, helpless as she was to stop her own disappearance. "I don't think so." He looked at his hands.

"Oh. Ok." She stared off a bit, then jerked her head back to face him. "And Harry? And Ron?"

"Potter is still missing, and Weasley, Weasley is not a target right now. From what I know. You're believed to be dead," he finished, looking up at her. After his pity, he felt a great deal of curiosity towards how the mighty, level-headed Granger would take this news.

"And might as well be," Hermione breathed. She sank to the ground, sitting down and burying her face in her hands. Draco shifted uncomfortably. Her face shot up. "You have to help me," she said intensely.

"What? Me?" Draco retorted in confusion and disbelief.

"There must be some way to reverse it. You have access to this entire castle. A charm, a memory enhancing spell, I don't know, just something that will make me remember who I am."

Draco turned indignant. "And why in the hell would I risk life and limb to search for a surely nonexistent cure? Do you expect me to take orders like your pet Weasley or want to protect you like your glorious Potter? You must be completely barking to think I'd risk my own life for yours."

"You're right, I'd forgotten I was talking to a spineless, lifeless coward who takes the easy way out because he's too afraid he'd fail at doing what's right."

"Actually, I take the easy way out because it means I get my biscuits buttered for me, my tailored robes brought to me, and my friends bought for me," Draco drawled, repressing a swell of anger.

Hermione walked over to the door. "Creaverus!" she cried, as a gold bolt of sparks shot from her wand, hitting Draco in the chest, where it created a strange tightening sensation. "I've just placed you under an oath spell, and everything you promise to do while under it you must do, otherwise the thought of it will keep you from sleep and fill your thoughts until it drives you mad. Promise me you'll try to find a way to reverse what's happening to me, or I walk out this door right now."

Draco shot her a challenging look, even as he panicked at the sensation crushing his lungs. "Do you really feel like another taste of the Cruciatus curse when the Dark Lord sees you?"

Hermione reached for the door handle. "Promise!" she demanded.

Draco's jaw tightened as she turned the handle. "Alright! Alright. I promise."

"Finite incantatem." Hermione walked back to the middle of the room, released the chains on Draco's wrists, and held out his wand for him to take. Draco stood up, took his his wand, and she walked back over to the wall.

"See? It is about fear," Hermione gloated as he closed the cuffs around her wrists.

Draco wanted to explode, to slam her against the wall and torture her until she took it back. Instead, he leaned his head next to hers, and let his lips brush her ear as he said with a deathly cold voice, "If you think I intend to keep some worthless promise to a filthy mudblood, you might as well believe that the Dark Lord himself is going to come in here and prostrate himself before you. There will be no stopping your death, as it really is your death, and from now on you will know nothing but torment until your miserable existence comes to an end." He stopped here, waiting for his words to sink in, anticipating her tear-stained face as he pulled away.

Contrary to that expectation, she turned her head and captured his lips with hers, swirling her tongue rhythmically with his before biting on his lower lip rather hard. She ground her body into his and moaned.

"Sephissa," Draco mumbled as he separated his face from hers.

"Morning, sexy. I'm sorry about that, you were just whispering in my ear something about torment and I couldn't help but be turned on," she teased, sucking on his neck and biting his ear lobes.

Draco pushed her away. "Sod off, Sephissa, I'm not in the bloody mood."

"What's the matter, Draco, the mudblood put you out?" she asked, tauntingly, as he removed the cuffs he had recently replaced.

"Don't you have a Dark Lord to go report to?" Draco shot back.

"Don't you have some other helpless girl to be attacked by?" At Draco's shocked expression, she pulled his face towards her and licked his cheek roughly. "You still have blood on your face, sweetie."

He immediately wiped his face with his sleeve, and she laughed and left the room, leaving him humiliated for the second day in a row.

* * *

"You know, for being on top of a Hellmouth and all, this place has been really boring," said Faith, arms behind her head, feet on a table in the Sunnydale High library. Xander, Willow, Oz, and Cordelia also sat at the table and likewise were awaiting Giles' exit from his office.

"You missed the excitement by about three months," said Oz.

"We were almost sucked into hell," continued Cordelia matter-of-factly.

"By Buffy's ex-boyfriend. Angel. We don't like him," chimed in Xander.

"So let me guess. Buffy stopped him and put everything right with the world. Like she did with the Master, and that guy Spike and the psycho chick, and everything else that is evil in this town?"

"There was swordfighting involved," remarked Oz.

"Well, we're not really sure what happened," added Willow. "I mean, she just left. Now school's started, and Giles is running out of ideas trying to find her, and she has to graduate, I mean, she was usually busy with slayer stuff, but she tried to keep on top of her classes and..." she trailed off, discouraged. An uncomfortable silence followed.

Faith sat up. "Let me tell you something. I might have never met your beloved Buffy, but I know what being a slayer feels like. You can't just give it up. The action. You can't just have all that tension bottled up. Having all that power and not using it? It's a tease. Sooner or later she's gonna need some satisfaction. And when that happens, you're gonna see her blazing back into town ready to fight, stake, and, well--lets face it, in her case--screw the next baddie that comes along."

"As riveting as such a prediction may be, we must for the time being focus on the present," said Giles. The party at the table looked up. "In which case, Faith, I have to introduce you to your new watcher. This is Percival Weasley."

Percy Weasley, donning a suit and tie, walked forward from the doorway of Giles' office and offered his hand to Faith. "Positively pleased to meet you, Ms. Mercello."

Faith didn't take his hand. Instead, she walked around him looking him up and down, before commenting, "Did they send you here to be my watcher or my new bed buddy? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure you'd be more useful in the last role. And call me Faith."

"How did we never ask her last name?" Xander asked Willow.

Percy looked unnerved, withdrew his hand, and said, "I assure you I am very qualified to be your, er, Watcher and was sent here with much purpose."

"Right. Well, Perce, it's been great, but I honestly don't need a new Watcher. So you hang out with old Giles here, and I'll let you know if I need anything," said Faith, as she turned and walked out of the library. "Later!" she called as she went through the doors.

An awkward silence filled the room. "Well, I don't suppose I can do anything more at the moment, see you all tomorrow," Percy said, seemingly relieved. He walked out the same door Faith had just gone through.

"Well, that wasn't weird," Cordelia said sardonically.

"Yeah, Giles, what's with him?" Willow followed.

Giles threw a contemptuous look towards the door and muttered, "Arrogant prat won't tell me anything. He checked out with the Watcher's Council. I don't know much else." The phone rang, and Giles all but dived for it as he answered it. Those seated at the table exchanged knowing looks.

"Do you guys believe what Faith said? About Buffy coming back on her own?" Willow asked.

"Makes sense," Oz replied.

"Yeah, anyway, we don't have much of another option do we? Giles isn't having much luck finding her," Cordelia said.

"Always the picker-upper, Cordy," Xander quipped.

"Whatever happens, I hope it's soon," Willow said. "For Giles' sake, at least." She looked towards his office, where through blinds Giles could be seen, hands on his desk, leaning over it, staring blankly at its surface.

* * *

Buffy's mind wandered as she perfunctorily cleared a table in the café. It was not lost on her that school was back in session, and she could not help wonder what Giles, Willow, and Xander thought of her. Were they angry? Did they even want her back? And after those questions came the even heavier one. What now? She led a purposeless life here in the city--no goals, no friends, no slaying. But to go back would be to face the pain that she ran away from. And to face them.

In all of her considerations she tried to ignore the other large presence in her head these days, the one with inescapable green eyes and an unexplainable ability to make her feel safe. Her mind would fall on him, and the past would fade into the background as she remembered how much she liked his hands. She would smile involuntarily, hearing him saying something extremely proper and British in her reverie. As soon as the memories led her to the kiss in the movie theatre, she would snap herself out of it and remember his cold manner afterwards. For the last few days, he had been friendly, but noticeably did not joke or flirt with her at all. He would smile at her sarcastic comments, but it was as if he looked at her from behind a closed door in his eyes. And it made it easier for her that way.

All in all, Buffy was tense. She clocked out of her shift that night glad that it was late, hoping to get into a fight with some city riff-raff on the way home. Maybe even a vampire. She never did go anywhere without a stake.

Exiting the door, though, she immediately saw the boy that she had been trying not to think about. He was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, seemingly waiting for her to come out. He stood up when he saw her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she answered in a confused tone. "I thought your shift got off hours ago. Why'd you come back?"

"Well, er, I thought since, you know, your shift was late, I'd come back and make sure you got back alright," he stated awkwardly.

"Oh," she said, trying not to sound disappointed. "Yeah, thanks. You're right. It's a dangerous city. Definitely need a walking buddy!"

They walked home side by side, the streets rather quiet and eerie. Neither could really find anything to say to the other, and decided silence was perfectly fine. Harry looked ahead as he strode, looking for any possible threats, his hand ready to reach for his wand at any time. As they were about to pass a seedy character who was looking Buffy up and down, Harry looked pointedly at him and put his arm around Buffy's shoulders, who started at the sudden contact. As soon as they had crossed the street from where the man had been, she stepped apart from him.

Harry withdrew his arm quickly. "Sorry, I didn't want that guy to say anything to you."

"No, it's fine," she said. "Thanks. Really, though, you don't have to do this. I can really take care of myself."

"Yes, I know, but you forget last time you took care of yourself I saw you get stabbed in the shoulder," Harry replied stubbornly.

"You don't get it, do you?" Buffy had stopped walking. She and Harry now faced each other on the sidewalk. "Where I come from, you fend for yourself. Believe it or not, I survived all by myself and a lot worse situations before you came along, Harry."

"What's your point? You don't want me around? Am I annoying you? Because that's a great deal what this feels like," he said, his temper flaring.

"No, you're getting it all wrong. I like having you around. Otherwise we wouldn't have lived together for the past two months. I just, I just don't need you to walk me home every time I have a late shift," she finished lamely.

"You're right. I don't get it. You barely come up to my nose and weigh about half of what a grown man would and yet are indignant at the thought of me protecting you. You invite me into your apartment but never once try to explain why you go to bed sobbing half the nights. And you kiss me once but are completely content to pretend it never happened. No, Buffy, I really don't get it." Harry turned and kept walking down the block. Buffy followed after.

"Harry, stop. Let me explain," Buffy called as she trotted to catch up with him.

"Sod off, Buffy, I don't want to hear it."

She caught up with his fast stride and was right behind him. "Harry, come on," she said as she grabbed his wrist to try to make him stop. He shook her hand off of his arm violently. This only increased Buffy's frustration and she grasped his wrist again, this time with a firmer grip.

The mask of self-control that Harry had been wearing disintegrated as her hand tightened around his wrist and halted his going forward. In one swift movement, he had turned around wildly and thrown his lips onto hers, pouring anger and frustration into his kiss.

Buffy, taken by complete surprise, found herself battling with his tongue as she returned the kiss with equal vigor. Their hands gripped at each other's clothing. Buffy pushed Harry up against the nearest wall, needing support so that she could push her body closer to his. Harry then rolled her over onto the wall, his lips moving from her lips to her neck clumsily, making her gasp. He returned to kissing her and it went on for minutes, each battling the other until they got tired, and the kiss settled into a slow, soft rhythm, which finally ended when Harry pulled back slightly, putting a few inches distance between their bodies.

Buffy's closed eyes opened foggily to find green ones staring back at her. Whatever door had been closed was now open, and she read complete devotion in his stare. "Wow, uh, where are we again?" she asked with a smile.

"Umm, I think we're in the middle of an abandoned sidewalk," he replied with an equal giddiness. "Yes. Yes we are."

At that moment, Voldemort himself could have come skipping down the sidewalk in a tutu and Harry would not have noticed or cared; the entirety of his reality was focused on Buffy, the muggle girl who, for the first time in his life, had made him feel not alone. They searched each other's eyes for a moment, green reflecting green and screaming Go out of their depths.

Harry brushed her hair behind one of her ears, Buffy still against the wall, and leaned in. "Can I kiss you again?" he whispered breathily into her ear. He felt her head nod as he moved his lips to her neck, bestowing feather-light kisses in a line. Pulling his head up, he almost kissed her again, but instead whispered, "I'm going to hold you to that when we get safely back to the apartment." With that, he took a step back from the wall, and started walking down the sidewalk again, hands in his pockets. He looked back mischievously to see Buffy smoothing her clothes and jogging to catch up with him; she gave him a mock-angry glare, but then grabbed his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

Looking back, it took all the self-control Harry could muster not to stop and start kissing her again, but when they got back to their apartment after the longest five minutes of his life, what he did next was something he could never explain.

Closing the door behind him as Buffy took off her coat and turned towards him, he smiled, walked over to the couch, and turned on the television. Buffy looked at him like he was mad, and he looked back with a polite expression of confusion.

"I'm sorry, is there something I'm forgetting?" Harry tried to hide his amusement.

Buffy rolled her eyes, catching on to the game. "Oh, you're so funny, Harry. Let's be an ass and pretend nothing's happened. Is this supposed to be payback?" Buffy asked hotly.

"You seem very upset. Maybe you should sit down." Harry moved over on the couch, patting the seat next to him, half laughing as he did so.

Harry didn't have time to react before Buffy let out a frustrated cry and launched herself at him. They started to wrestle on the couch, laughing as they did so, until Harry caught Buffy's mouth with his, and an entirely different kind of wrestling ensued. They spent a good deal of time on the couch before moving to Buffy's bedroom, where they spent more time entangling their lips and limbs and finally ended up laying on their sides on opposite sides of the bed, shirtless, facing each other, and staring at one another intently.

"I told myself I couldn't do this, that I don't deserve this," Buffy confessed. Her voice was small and vulnerable. "But you make it too easy. You take all the dark away."

Harry reached with his arm and placed his palm to her cheek; she reflexively tilted her head into it and closed her eyes. After a moment, Harry sat up, and looked at her solemnly.

"When I came here, I hated the world because there was this huge gap between who I was and who I was supposed to be. But being with you, now and before, it made me feel for the first time like I could be that person, the one that..." Harry trailed off, unsure how to finish. "I came here to drown, and you pulled me out."

Buffy sat up, and pulled Harry into a hug that nearly cut off his breathing. She kissed him quickly once more and laid back down, her back to him, pulling his arm around her so his body curled around hers. They fell asleep this way.