Legacy Of The Fathers

Chapter Two - Two Of The Same

Author’s Notes: All right, I’ll admit it. I’ve been dying to do this story since Heir Of Voldemort 19 came to light! Something nowhere near as grim or dark as HOV, but with the fun relationships I initiated in that series. Especially the Draco/Xander friend thing that happened. I like it!

_________________________ FICTION HERE________________________

"You!"

Draco Malfoy’s pale face split into a grin. "Nice to see you too, arse-bandit," he said cheerfully, shaking the full bottle of whisky in his hand. "Now, if I remember right, we have some unfinished business."

Alexander stared at him. His mouth was open, question upon question crossing his mind, then being overlapped by another. He managed to blink at the wizard, which felt like a major accomplishment.

"So..." Draco remarked several minutes later. "You just sit there and keep right on doing that cracking impression of a fish and I’ll drink this, okay?"

"You...you’re here!"

The blond wizard smirked. "You’re so observant it astounds me," he managed to reply before the younger man scrambled off his stool and yanked him into a tight hug that practically lifted him off his own stool. "Harris! Geroff! I’m not into all that kinky man-to-man stuff!"

"God...I never thought I’d see you again!"

"Yes, well, there was nothing in the paperwork about being victim to a...what would you call that thing you just did?"

"A hug?"

Draco sniffed. "Yes, one of them. I hate to be the one to inform you, Harris, but I’m too manly for such rampant displays of affection."

Alexander’s face split in the first genuine smile he had felt in weeks. "And you are still such a butt-monkey, Malfoy," he replied, sitting back down on his stool. "What are you doing here anyway? And," he noticed. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Draco glanced down at his clothing. "It’s some kind of shoddy muggle-wear so I don’t stand out too much," he replied with an aggrieved sigh, then grinned and tugged at the lapels of his leather duster. "Although, it’s not actually that bad, considering. Especially this coat."

Alexander looked him up and down and couldn’t help grinning back. If Spike, the infamous vampire, had ever had a clone, it had appeared in the form of the wizard known as Draco Malfoy.

Unlike the last time they had seen one another, Draco’s uncontrolled blond hair was slicked back against his head and he was wearing black jeans so tight they looked like they were painted on, a black T-shirt with a blood-red shirt over it and the black, leather duster which had been Spike’s trademark.

"Where’d you get the idea that was a regular muggle look?"

Draco, who was trying to work out how to open the bottle without magic, raised his grey eyes to Alexander. "The look? Saw a bloke on my way in. Decided I could pinch his jacket at least."

Taking the bottle and twisting the cap off easily, the dark-haired youth was still staring at the jacket. "This guy you stole it from...was...did he have hair the same colour as yours?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," Draco replied, holding out a rather greasy-looking glass, waiting while Alexander poured some of the amber liquid into it. "Bloody prat tried to bite me."

"What did you do?"

Shrugging, Malfoy knocked back the first glass full of whisky. "Kneed him in the bollocks, took his jacket and left him."

"No magic?"

"Well, unless you include a full body-bind..." the blond sighed, tutting sadly. "I really despise it when people are rude enough to try and bite me without asking for permission first...what’s so funny?"

"You," Alexander replied, smiling, really smiling, for the first time in months. "You didn’t realise that you were attacked by a vampire and that you just stole the jacket that he’s never been seen without? He’s not going to be happy about this," Alexander had to laugh. "When you make enemies, you do it well."

"Vampire?" Draco’s brow furrowed slightly, as he let Alexander refill his glass, the amber liquid sloshing up the sides. "I suppose that does explain those awful eyes...and the bloody great big teeth."

"Yeah, the teeth are a bit of a giveaway..." the younger man said, swirling his own drink in his glass. "That still doesn’t explain why you’ve decided to show up in good old Sunnydale."

Malfoy studied Alexander, then gave him a lop-sided smile. "Well, you know me, Harris," he drawled. "Haven’t had much to do since the fall and defeat and what have you, so I thought I’d drop by."

"Draco..."

"Oh, all right then, Rayne and Giles have both been getting their knickers in a knot over you," he exhaled a breath. "They expected that I might be able to talk to you in a way they can’t."

"You mean, you can get away with calling me an arse-bandit without being afraid I’ll have a nervous breakdown?"

"Harris, I’d call you an arse-bandit even if you did have a nervous breakdown," the other man shot back. "They called me in because they’re all..." he pulled a face at the very thought. "Sensitive. They wanted someone who could cut out the ‘we’re here for you and truly care’ crap."

Alexander studied him. "You did come though. You didn’t have to."

"Don’t you start getting any delusions that I might like you, Harris," Malfoy pointed a finger at him, aiming for a sullen scowl, which was belied by the rare warmth in his silver-grey eyes.

"Wouldn’t dream of it, Draco," the dark-haired boy replied. "After all, the world would shift on its axis if word came out that there was a Malfoy who actually cared about someone apart from himself."

"Prat."

"Prick."

"Son of a snake!"

"Son of a slimeball!"

Draco quirked a brow upwards. "I didn’t know you had met my father."

"Like father like son," Alexander gave him a wicked smirk, which earned him a light slap across the back of his head and an almost believable scowl from the blond-haired wizard. "Hey!"

"Do I insult you and your father?"

"Yes, actually!"

Draco gave that a moment of consideration. "Well, yes, I suppose I do..." he said with a small smile, his eyes twinkling. "Oops?"

"Oops, my ass," Alexander grumbled half-heartedly, pouring himself another half-glass of the whisky provided by Willy. "You just like being a pain in the butt," he winced as he swallowed the liquid. "And is it me, or is this stuff disgusting?"

"Right on the pain in the arse thing and yes, that stuff is vile," Draco glanced across the bar and into the room beyond, where Willy had hidden himself. "I told him I didn’t want cheap crap. He gave us cheap crap," he sighed. "I hate it when I don’t get what I want."

"Hate how much?"

"Hate enough to make him dance on the tables until he passes out from exhaustion."

Alexander raised his brows. "Is that legal?"

"Well, it doesn’t hurt him...much," Draco replied with a shrug, his eyes glittering oddly by the neon red lights on the opposite side of the bar. "And when he’s been dancing for three hours, he might confess where he hid the decent booze."

"Sounds good to me," Alexander pushed himself to his feet. "And I always figured that Willy would have a bizarre way of dancing so hey! It might even be kinda funny as well."

***

"I feel like doing something...something fun."

"You mean something more funny than making that amusing barman dance on top of his bar to the can-can?" Both men leaned sideways to look through the doorway at Willy, who was sitting on the floor and whimpering, his feet plunged into the ice bucket. Draco grinned and gave him a wave.

"I said fun, not funny."

Draco rolled his eyes expressively. "I doubt we can find anything more entertaining than that..."

"Well, being a little drunk is always a good start," Alexander’s lips rose in a bleary grin, as he groped out for the glass on the counter and lifted it, making a whimpering sound of disappointment when he saw that it was empty. "Makes you feel all kinda... nice, y’know..."

"You really can’t hold your liquor, can you?" the blond man sighed, as Alexander swayed heavily in his direction. He caught the younger man by the arm, holding him upright, while groping into his pocket with his other hand. "Here."

Fortunately for them both, the pub was deserted, most of the demon patrons fleeing as soon as Willy had started doing the most bastardised version of the Flashdance dance routine that the world had ever seen on the bar, leaving both young men to get rather pie-eyed.

Alexander had already exceeded expectations and looked like he would probably fall straight onto the floor if Draco moved away.

"Whatsit?"

Draco lifted the capsule and held it in front of Alexander’s mouth. "Just shut up and open up." The drunker of the two young men started laughing at that. "Look, you silly sod, I didn’t mean for you to drink a whole bottle of the stuff on your own. Open your bloody trap!"

"What is it?"

"Something to stop you falling on your arse."

"Aaaaaaah..." Alexander opened his mouth and Draco dropped the pill between his lips, hastily wiping his hands on his jeans and stepping back as his companion’s head fell forward with a loud thump on the bar top.

The small, round amber capsule was probably the last thing that Alexander would have wanted or needed had he been sober enough to make the decision, especially since he had gone to all the effort of getting drunk out of his tree.

Produced by Snape, reinstated to his position at Hogwarts, the capsules were to eradicate the effects of alcohol on the system. Alexander had drunk almost a full bottle of whisky in the two hours that they had watched the barkeeper dance, so Draco knew the pill would take a few minutes to work.

Unfortunately, most of the people who had used the capsule hadn’t been too pleased that the warming, numbing effects of alcohol had been removed and that was when they had taken the pills of their own free will.

Which meant that Alexander wasn’t going to be...

"You bastard!" Draco grimaced as his companion’s white face was lifted from the bar top, a vivid red patch in the middle of his forehead, where it had smacked off the wooden surface. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"I’m not good at controlling drunken lunatics so I thought I'd better get you sober instead of leaving you here with the nice man we tormented for three hours," the blond replied, still staying a reasonable distance from the son of Voldemort. "And for all you know, I could have been poisoning you."

Alexander scowled. "I was drunk," he said. "I wanted to be drunk."

"Well, you got to be drunk for half an hour, fell over into my arms - which you really have to stop doing - and made a right show of yourself," Draco said, his hands on his hips. "And now, I’m bored, so can we get out of this dump?"

"I hate you," the dark-haired youth growled, unsteadily getting to his feet. "Goddamned English son of a bitch..."

"Ahem, but you’re a goddamned English son of a bitch too, as you seem to have conveniently forgotten, you prat," the polite reply came from his companion, who was smirking at him, his arms folding over his chest. "English father. English mother. Born in England...see where this pattern is leading?"

"You..."

One brow rose, as if challenging Alexander to correct him.

Exhaling a breath, the dark-haired youth tried to maintain his glare, but it faded into a reluctant half-smile. "You really are an arrogant jerk."

"Never denied it for a moment. In fact, I’m known to thrive on it."

"And you took away the nice, warm fuzziness that all that stuff gave me."

"On the plus side, you don’t have a hangover," said Draco.

There was a moment’s silence.

"I guess that is a kinda good thing," Alexander reluctantly admitted, with a weak smile in Draco’s direction. "So, why did you ruin my fun? Why did you need me standing up?"

"Like I said," Draco replied. "I’m bored. Who do we torture for fun around here?"

"Draco!"

The wizard’s face split in a grin that Alexander had only ever seen on the face of the vampire known as William the Bloody. "Just kidding, Harris," he said, eyes glinting with mirth.

"I can never tell with you," Alexander replied. "And can you please just call me Xander, or something? I’m not used to being called Harris...I’d rather not be called that name."

Draco studied him. "Well, you do have quite a wide selection of names, you know. You could be Bones, Riddle, LaVelle, Harris..."

"Draco."

"Mind you, I think personally I would avoid LaVelle..."

"Draco."

"But if I called you Riddle," Draco continued, ignoring his companion. "There might be people who would..."

Alexander’s lips quirked upwards as he practically shouted. "Ferretboy!"

Vivid patches of pink appeared on Malfoy’s pale face, his silvery eyes snapping to Alexander’s face, a smirk to rival his own on the Heir of Slytherin’s lips. "What did you call me?"

"Just a little story that Ginny told me, Draco," Alexander said, his expression one of innocence, his eyes glimmering with a barely covered smile. "Something about Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret."

"I’m going to bloody well kill her!"

"I don’t think you are," Alexander chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were glinting with amusement. "If you did, her creepy, black-wearing boyfriend would use your insides for his potions."

"True..." the blond sighed wearily. "Damn. It's so bloody hard to get revenge these days, what with all the laws and psychotic boyfriends..." He gave Alexander a cursory look. "So, what are we doing, Harris?"

"F..."

"All right, all right." He held up his hands. "Snakeboy."

Alexander’s dark brown eyes narrowed to slits. "Don’t make me go all dark lordy on you, Ferret," he said in a soft voice, one hand pointing at the blond’s face. "I could so kick your ass right now."

"See me quivering."

"I thought quivering was more for the sex..."

"Not that you would know anything about that," Draco smirked. "But oh yes, you’re just such a lust-bucket," He fanned himself with a hand. "I feel quite overcome!"

"Are you being very English or very gay?"

"Harris!" Draco groaned. "You take the fun out of everything! Do I really need to say that I want to shag you senseless?"

"You better be joking about that..."

Draco gave him a solemn look, his lower lip drooping slightly. "Are...are you saying that you don’t want me, Xander? A-after everything?" Alexander stared at him in a combination of confusion and horror.

"Draco, please say you’re joking..."

There was a prolonged silence, in which Draco buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

"Draco...?"

The shaking of the shoulders grew more pronounced.

"Draco, c’mon..."

The blond’s head jerked up, tears of laughter streaming down his face. "My God, Harris!" he managed to say, between chortles. "How ego-centric are you? Of course I don’t fancy you!"

Alexander looked torn between smacking the wizard across the head or laughing along with him. Drawing a slow breath, he calmly said, "What did I tell you about calling me Harris, Ferret?"

"I can’t quite recall, Snake," Draco chuckled, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. "So, what’s the plan? Is there somewhere in this gloomy hole that we can go that might be a little more entertaining than this dump."

Alexander shrugged. "The Bronze?"

"You go to a piece of metal for fun?"

"It’s a kind of social club place, you ass."

"Wizard-born, muggle-breath," Draco retorted. "How am I meant to know?"

"Wizards don’t have clubs?"

"Apparently not."

There was another long moment of silence.

"What’s a club anyway?"

***

"Do you think Xander’s all right?"

"I think so," Willow replied to Buffy’s question, studying the glass of cola she had in front of her, a pensive expression on her face. "It's just that Xander has never done anything I didn’t know about before...apart from the whole Cordelia thing...we...we used to tell each other everything."

The Slayer and the witch were seated in the Bronze, at one of the few tables, each of them mulling over a soft drink. The building was bustling as usual, teenagers from fifteen up roaming the floors in search of a conquest.

"If it was something real serious, he’d tell us, right?"

"Right!" Willow agreed emphatically. "I-I mean we’re like bestest best buddies!"

Buffy, however, seemed a little distracted.

"Holy..."

"What is..."

Willow had noticed exactly ‘what’ was being looked at, her mouth falling open at the sight of the figure who had just entered through the side door of the Bronze, far too cool looking to be within the shabby walls.

"Omigod..." the Slayer mumbled. "Oh...my...God..."

"Yuh-huh..." Willow whispered in agreement.

Yes, he had the look of Spike about him, but whoa!

He was definitely hottie material.

Tall, broad in the shoulder and narrow in the waist, the young man paused where he had entered, casting a casual look around the club. A duster hung to his ankles, one hand casually on his hip and pulling the jacket back from his torso.

Unfortunately for most of the females - and a few of the males - present, that had the effect of showing off the washboard stomach that was visible through the tight black T-shirt he was wearing.

His face was angular and sharp, with cheekbones that could cut diamond, and there was a slight lift in his lips that suggested he knew exactly why the whole place had gone silent as soon as he stepped in.

Silver-blonde hair was slicked back over his pale features, his equally pale eyes taking in everything around him.

His hand falling back down by his side, he strode - catlike - into the club, towards the bar, lazily ignoring all the lowered voices that had immediately started to babble questions around him.

"Have you ever...?"

"Nuh-uh..."

Buffy and Willow exchanged looks.

This was certainly a change for the Bronze.

Very rarely, if ever, was there a guy who was such pure, wild A-class hottie material that neither of them knew, either from their school or through a friend or a neighbour or an associate.

"He looks kinda like Spike," Willow said carefully.

Buffy nodded. "I’ll have to watch out for him," she decided. "Just in case he’s a vamp or something..."

"Sure," her friend snickered. "Just in case he’s a vamp. Right."

The Slayer tried to look offended, then grinned. "Wanna help?"

"Sure!"