The Eighth Weasley

Notes: This chapter may be a little stilted, simply because of the sheer amount of stuff to get through. We have the infamous poker tournament. We have Billy and Minnie daring each other to back down. We have Snape and Buffy drawing battle lines. And we have the core plot starting to move...hopefully, this one will stay under ten pages.

Also - muahahahah! I just had to ;)

Also, everything that happens does so for a reason to fit with in the 75 ch. storyline, so if you have questions, know that they are likely to be cleared up somewhere in the next 40 chapters. Eg: what was that box Dumble gave Spike? What was the book? What was the painting? Why is a certain character acting the way he is with a certain other character (in this chapter)? Things like this will all be answered in their own sweet time and as for pairings that everyone keeps asking about...I’m afraid you’d just have to wait and see. Yes, I know, I’m a fiend :-D I love it!

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No one could explain quite what happened.

One moment, the door of the Leaky Cauldron had swung inwards, a silhouette of a striking woman standing in the doorframe, the pale wash of winter light obscuring her facial features.

Tall, with a slim form and slight curves, she looked like she was having trouble staying upright, hands braced on the frame. From her silhouette, it was clear she was wearing a very short, very tight dress.

Most thought she was a muggle.

Every face had turned in her direction, some bored, some curious. Many later wished that they had fled the moment the door opened rather than witness what happened in the next moment, as she lowered her hands from the doorframe.

One instant she was at the door.

Next instant...she was in the midst of them and had her fingers sunk to the knuckle in Mundungus Fletcher’s skull, screaming out in rapture, as Fletcher went limp in front of her.

All eyes were locked on her, sheer terror and confusion spreading through the twenty or so witches and wizards who were present, all of them looking from her to the fallen wizard at her feet.

How?

What?

The wiser of those present starting carefully edging towards the side door of the pub, some with the intention of going for help from the Ministry, others just wanting to save their own arses.

Straightening up, the woman tossed blonde curls back from her face and let her blue-green eyes roam the faces. Her scarlet lips - which matched her scarlet dress - lifted up in a smile that might have been pretty if it hadn’t looked so psychotic.

"God, that feels better," she purred, running her manicured hands through her hair, then down over her chest with a satisfied groan. "I gotta tell ya, it’s hell travelling with minions. They just don’t know where to find people for top ups."

Apparently, she didn’t quite grasp the significance of twenty sticks pointed at her by various nervous, wary-looking humans.

"What have you done to him?" a small, brown-wearing witch shrieked, kneeling over the unfortunate Mundungus Fletcher, who was looking around with a blank expression on his face, his grey eyes out of focus.

One of the woman’s brows lifted. "Duh, I needed a refill."

"Surrender!" a wizard snapped, walking towards her, wand raised. He sounded confident, looked fairly confident too, but his wand was shaking in his hand like a branch of a sapling in a force nine gale.

"What did you say?" the woman asked, cocking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. A wrinkle appeared in her smooth brow, which suggested that she wasn’t too pleased at being spoken to so rudely.

"I said surrender! You have attacked a wizard! You are under arrest!"

"Pfft!"

That wasn’t quite the reaction they expected.

"I needed a refill," she repeated boredly, as if the wizard approaching her was deeply stupid. "And now, you start pointing itty bitty sticks at me like you can try to hurt me with them? Puh-lease!" She took a lazy step towards him, stepping over Fletcher and the witch who was trying to make him focus on her. "But while you’re being so chatty, hon, maybe you can tell me where they hid my key."

"K-Key?"

The woman smiled that strange, manic smile again. "The Slayer stole it. I want it back." She took another step towards him, uncaring of the wand in his hand. The grin on her face suggested that if he even tried to breathe, she would do something very, VERY unpleasant to him. "Now, you can tell me where it is."

***

"Good morning, Buffy."

Rupert Giles had just entered through the door of the Great Hall that lead out onto the High table, where every other member of staff was already sitting, Buffy being the one closest to the door, the additional ‘muggle’ table and the Gryffindor table.

Dawn flashed a grin up at him over her goblet, clearly pleased that she had managed to get her sister up and to the Great Hall in time for the breakfast. After all, it was such a rare occurrence for Professor Summers, so Dawn had every right to be proud.

Seated near her, Spike and Anya compared notepads filled with scribbles, still plotting tactics and stratagems for the now-infamous poker tournament that was being set up between the Sunnydalians and the staff.

It had taken them nearly two weeks already to arrange a date, already. Giles had been dragged in as the final player for the Sunnydale side, while Professor Sprout and Flitwick had actually had a mini-duel for the chance to be the third Hogwarts player.

Unsurprisingly, Flitwick had won and Sprout was still plucking daisies out of her ears every morning, before breakfast.

Xander seething silently on the other side of the table, while Willow pensively made her egg do laps of the plate with no apparent intention of bringing the helpless food to her mouth.

She had been fine in the initial days since Buffy and her friends arrived, but Buffy had grown distracted by her classes and rivalry with Snape. Xander was trying to salvage his relationship with Anya, who had been spending more time in the company of Spike and Dumbledore than her lover.

Dawn had also made friends with some of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs from her Potions classes and often spent all of her free time with them, in a games room that Dumbledore had provided on her request.

The only person who Willow had been able to spend any time with was Hermione and that was only when she wasn’t taking her classes. It was something, but Willow was rapidly turning in on herself, still lost after Oz’s departure.

Glancing along the table, the watcher saw Hermione looking down at Willow with similar concern, her brown eyes dark with worry, mustard being poured onto her cereal. Giles made a note to talk to her afterwards.

Taking the final seat at the table, next to the Slayer, Giles gave her an exasperated look when she said nothing in response. "I said good morning, Buffy," he repeated, giving her a nudge.

Again, no response.

Looking a little more closely at her, Giles found her staring at him wildly out of the corner of her eyes, which flashed a furious look towards the opposite end of the table, where a familiar figure was casually slicing a grilled tomato.

Severus Snape looked up from his breakfast and smirked across at them both, eyes glittering. His chin dipped in a polite nod to Giles, then he returned his attention to the plate in front of him.

Giles was hard-pressed to smother a snort of laughter, despite Buffy’s predicament.

The petrification potion.

It had been the first potion that he and Severus had worked on together. It was a very complex substance to make, owing to the fact that all ingredients had to be added in a specific time order. Even a second on either side could ruin the potion.

It was a testament to Snape’s abilities that he could still brew one so well that it had his ‘victim’ of choice in a full body bind, with a goblet gripped in her hand at an odd angle, a puddle of pumpkin juice formed beneath her fist.

"I’m assuming that you would like me to get the antidote for this," Giles muttered to her, her eyes flashing in a silent, yet very emphatic yes.

Sliding out of his seat, Giles tried not to draw attention to himself - or the fact that the joint Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts was petrified - and rounded the High table to approach Snape.

"Sev," he murmured, giving Professor Hooch a polite nod, as she shifted aside to let him lean in to talk to the Potions teacher. "You do have an antidote for the draught you slipped into Buffy’s meal, I assume."

"I have no idea what you are referring to, Rupert," Snape replied calmly.

"Sev."

"All I am guilty of," he said, in what Giles supposed was a hurt tone of voice. "Is giving the house elves a particular variety of polish to use on the wonderful Slayer’s eating utensils." His black eyes rose to Giles’ in mock innocence.

Giles chuckled.

Trust Severus to arrange it so that only the slightest of evidence could connect him to the crime.

"And does anyone else chance to have this...polish on their cutlery, like...oh, I don’t know...perhaps me?"

"Rupert, I am shocked, appalled and thoroughly disgusted that you would even imagine such a thing," Snape replied with a small smirk. "And have no fear for your precious little girl’s well-being. It should wear off shortly."

"Shortly?"

"I ought to have enough time to walk back to the dungeon at a leisurely pace," the Potions Professor answered, laying his cutlery down on his plate and pushing his seat back from the table. "Inform Miss Summers that I did appreciate her kind gesture of sending a house elf and it’s gift this morning."

"House elf?"

Snape, though, had swept out of his chair and down the Great Hall.

Giles was impressed to notice that every table Snape passed seemed to duck over their food as soon as the potions Professor approached, falling strangely silent until he was out of hearing range.

Turning back to Buffy, he returned to his seat beside her and sat down. "You should be able to move again in a few minutes," he informed her under his breath. "And I would suggest that you don’t go running after him to beat his head in, as you no doubt intend to."

Her hazel eyes flickered angrily.

"I am aware that you are rather...agitated," he acknowledged dryly. "But I hold you to your promise not to cause any physical damage to him. After all, he is a friend of mine and I’d rather not see him a bloody pulp."

"Frz..."

"I can see that he froze you, Buffy," Giles replied. "But that does not make it fair to beat his head in with his own cauldron."

"Isfr..."

"You might well think it fair, but I certainly don’t."

The Slayer’s face moved slowly into a scowl, her eyes flaring angrily. It seemed to take her an eternity before her mouth was able to move properly, as the rest of her body was released from the thrall of the potion.

"Kick...ass..."

Giles shook his head. "Buffy, he didn’t physically harm you, so I’m afraid you can do no such thing," he said sternly. "And he did ask me to tell you something - thank you for the house elf and it’s gift?"

The scowl shifted into a slight smirk. "Dobby."

"Dear God, Buffy...what did you make the poor creature do?"

Buffy’s slight, slow smile widened into a strangely-evil looking grin, her hazel eyes gleaming with mirth. "Told him...that Snapey needed...a wake-up call...and he likes... male... strippers..."

"Oh dear Lord..."

Hazel eyes glimmered at him. "Got him back..."

"For what?"

"He replaced my conditioner with hair-growing potion two days ago," she replied, opening and shutting her mouth a few times to get some feeling back in her jaw. "I had to cut my hair six times before I could leave the room that day."

"You don’t think strippers were a bit...drastic?"

"Giles! It was my hair!"

The ex-Watcher couldn’t help chuckling, shaking his head. He knew it was going to prove interesting pitting his two favourite students against one another, but he had never imagined that they would sink to such levels of immaturity.

For the two weeks since they had arrived and since he had spoken to them both in turn, they had been baiting one another constantly, although Buffy had stood by her word and hadn’t physically laid a finger on the man.

Not yet, at least.

Something told him that it wouldn’t be very long until Buffy did resort to using her physical advantage of her Slayer strength and either slightly hurt or severely humiliate the Potions Professor.

"Bear in mind that you have classes all day today, Buffy..."

The Slayer exhaled a sigh. "I s’pose I can put off the ass-kicking until this evening... or until I get some feeling back in my legs," she said heavily, reaching for the slice of toast she had left on the plate.

"Well..." Whatever Giles was going to say was inadvertently cut off with a splutter of laughter, as Buffy’s eyes rolled up in her re-frozen face, her hand holding the knife once again. "I-I ought to have warned you...don’t touch the cutlery..."

Her eyes said, "Thank you VERY much."

***

"Oh, fabulous luminous one," Jinx bowed low as he eased around the door into the bedchamber of the illustrious Honeymoon Suite of the tavern known as the Leaky Cauldron, where the radiant Glorificus was reclining on the deep crimson silk sheets of the large bed. "Is it fitting for me to interrupt your worshipful nap?"

The room was entirely decorated in various shades of reds, garish pinks, peaches and colours that Glory adored. Even the plush rugs on the wooden floor and the candles in the elaborate gold candelabra in the corners of the room were red.

Drapes hung everywhere, making it look like a room from a Harem, or something equally exotic, silk pillows scattered everywhere. A fresh breeze rippled through the room, sweet and natural, with a slight hint of jasmine.

All in all, she liked the room and that was just the bedroom area. The bathroom...oh my God! It was beautiful! And the relaxation area was better than anything she could have found in Sunnydale. It was perfect.

Stretching as she lazily sat up, her arms extending over her head, her sheer white silk nightshirt leaving very little to a horny and bumpy demon minion’s imagination. One hand pushed her hair back from her face as she yawned.

Late afternoon sunlight was pouring in the window on the wall opposite the bed, but if her superb magnificence was troubled with the force of the evil known as jet-lag, Jinx was not going to be the one to suggest that she wait until night to sleep.

"What is it, Jinxy?" she asked. "Not another feeble human wanting to plead for mercy? You know that drives me crazy."

After her dramatic entrance to the Leaky Cauldron that morning, seven wizards and witches, who had not managed to escape the pub, were being held in the neighbouring rooms as a combination of supplies and hostages.

The Ministry had issued ultimatums to her, which she had ignored.

After all, she was a Hell-Goddess. No puny humans with magic sticks were going to tell her she couldn’t stay in the fab-u-lous Honeymoon Suite of the neat little pub for free. Oh, and there had been some mention of them not liking her sucking the brains of their... ‘kind’ as well.

Free room.

Brain suckage.

They couldn’t exactly stop her, either way, but it hadn’t prevented every one of the hostages in the next room from trying to get to her and beg for release.

Only, she had told them, when she had her key.

Jinx hovered carefully in the doorway. "Not entirely, your most stunning fabul..."

He was cut off when something hit him from behind and hard, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap of filthy robes and bumpy skin, scaled feet waving futilely in the air as the person demanding entry stepped into the room.

"How can you tolerate such a contemptible little worm?"

Sitting up a little, Glory blinked, surprised for first time since she had been so rudely kicked out of her dimension. Normally, no one would stalk into her rooms like that, or kick her minions about.

She liked the guy already.

"And just who are you, honey?" she demanded, easing towards the edge of the bed and sliding to her feet, her eyes staying on him.

Whoever he was, he looked like she felt all the time: like he knew he was above everything around them.

He was wearing clothes that were probably the Gucci, Calvin Klein and Prada of the wizard world, his robes cut to perfection and fitted to his form. Long, white-blond hair hung to his waist around an arrogant, pointed face, a casual smirk on his thin lips which did nothing to warm his cool grey eyes.

His left hand, clad in a black glove, rested on the head of black staff topped with an elaborate silver snake-head with emeralds for eyes. It looked so comfortable in his hand that it almost looked part of him.

"A friend, Miss...?"

"Glory," she replied, watching as his eyes casually slid down the sheer nightshirt she was wearing, then back up to her face, his lips rising in a suggestive smirk, clearly impressed with what he was seeing through the thin material.

Whoa!

She hadn’t been checked out like that since M’rgolahth from the Foi’tsha dimension had visited her.

"The name’s Malfoy," he said in a voice that resembled the low, dangerous growl of a lion at rest. Glory couldn’t hide a grin. A dangerous male, and a wizard at that. What a good day this was turning out to be. "Lucius Malfoy."

"Lucius..." she repeated it. "Kinda nice name."

"Your radiant beauteousness...!" Jinx apparently had disentangled himself from the robes, which had bound themselves over his head. He clearly didn’t approve of the man who had just smacked him across the room with a stick.

"Shut up, Jinx," she murmured, still gazing up at this tall, light and very fascinating human creature. "So, Lucius, honey, wanna tell me why you came barging in on me in my boudoir when I could be all naked and bare for all to see? I mean, just because you see the clothing don’t mean its there, you know...you know, right?"

One of his brows lifted again, but he didn’t back away like the regular humans did when she started to babble.

Weird.

And kinda good too.

"Perhaps," he remarked. "You could use a top up. I heard what you did to Fletcher."

"Fletcher? Fletcher...right..." she nodded, hating the fact that her sanity always chose to depart at the worst possible moments. "Guy down the stairs with the big, big brain and the pulse with the boom boom boom...just like a drum with a beat of madness and the wild side."

"That would be Fletcher," Stamping his cane down on the floor once with a loud rap, the door opened again behind him, allowing two small creatures that looked like smoother version of her minions to bustle in, dragging a human. "A gift."

"Huh?"

Lucius Malfoy grabbed the collar of the figure, a sandy-haired young woman with terrified eyes, dragging her forward and thrusting her towards Glory. "A muggle to sate your appetite, perhaps," he replied.

Unable to think any straight, Glory reached up and stroked the girl’s hair back from her face. She saw Lucius Malfoy’s silver-grey eyes fixed on her and moaned as her fingers pushed into the girl’s mind.

The girl cried out, as they always did, light radiating from her skull as Glory felt the power of the girl’s sanity flood through her fingertips and into her own body, filling her with a ripe, delicious sense of pleasure.

"Whatta rush," she gasped, staggering. "Don’t always get ‘em that young..."

Malfoy’s lips lifted in a smile as he looked down at the mumbling human, who was now kneeling on the floor. "I must say that you do have a remarkable technique for draining them," he said. "Certainly a great deal more traumatising for them and their families than simply killing them, no doubt."

"Kinda hard habit to break and humans...so much fun to play with," she sighed, stretching again, her shoulders rolling back and arms flexing as she felt the new energy rippling through her, her half-closed eyes on his face. His expression was one of intrigue and fascination. "So, Lucius, baby, you got my attention. Now, whaddya really want with me?"

"I hear you are looking for a Key," he murmured, approaching her and raising a hand to brush her hair back over her shoulders. For the first time in...like, ever, she didn’t have the compulsion to push a man’s hand away for invading her own personal goddessly space.

"You got that right," Glory scowled. "Damn Slayer stole it."

Malfoy’s lips lifted further. "I have something of a...private vendetta against the Slayer myself," he said. "As I have had little to...occupy my time since my Master fell, I was wondering if I may be of some assistance to you, as you are unfamiliar with my world and I have connections in many places. And you do have that delightful way of destroying muggles and mudbloods..."

"I don’t care about them. Why should I? I want what’s mine."

Lucius Malfoy’s silvery eyes gleamed. "An admirable sentiment," he said softly, the tips of his gloved fingers brushing the strap of her nightshirt off her shoulder. "And such an attractive..." His gaze dipped down her body again, his lips quirking. "Nature, too," he finished.

Her own eyes on his hand that was touching, but not quite touching her shoulder, Glory felt a smile coming to her lips. This guy might be all right and if he wasn’t, hell! He’d be some fun for a while at least.

"You wanna help me get my key back, baby?" she asked, staring up at him. She was nearly as tall as he was. nearly, but not quite. Just enough height on him to have her looking up.

"If it proves an affront to the Slayer and a connection to your wondrous sanity-draining weapon, I would be delighted," he replied, taking another step closer to her, grey eyes holding blue-green. "I do so love to work in close proximity to those who think on the same lines as I do."

"Are you talking about hating the Slayer or screwing?" Glory inquired, grabbing the front of his robes and pulling him towards her. "Cause, baby, you keep talkin’ the way you are and I am so open for both."

One of Malfoy’s gloved hands came up, his fingertips raising her chin. "Whichever you prefer to consider, Glory," he replied with a predatory smile, before bringing his lips down on hers.

***

"C’mon, Willow!"

"I don’t want to."

Hermione, her hands on her hips, sighed in the direction of the arched ceiling. "Miss Willow Weasley, you better drag your pitiful backside out of that bed before I count to five, or else I’ll..."

"Else what?" Willow rolled onto her side from her belly to regard the brown-haired witch, her expression glum. She was wearing one of Oz’s old, baggy shirts over a pair of jeans and her hair was unbrushed, her face pale and wan.

There was a brief moment of silence as Hermione considered her reply, studying Willow. She and Giles had managed to discuss the young red head earlier in the day, both of them worried about her.

Now, clad in her most comfortable muggle shirt and jeans, she had come up with the perfect way to get Willow up and about again. "I suppose I would just join you there and sing at you, until you decide you have had enough and run away from me."

"Why would I run away?"

"You obviously haven’t heard me singing before," Hermione said with a smile that earned a small smile from Willow, who reluctantly sat up. "Come on, Willow, it’ll be funny! We have to go along!"

"It’s only a game of poker, Hermione."

The older witch shook her head, a wickedly dirty grin creeping onto her lips. "Its not just poker," she replied, her eyes twinkling. "It’s strip poker, but only McGonagall, Spike and I know."

"Dumbledore, Flitwick, Giles and McGonagall are playing strip poker?" A nauseous expression crossed Willow’s face.

"Willow, trust me, there is no way that we’ll have to see any of them undressed," the witch replied. She really did look very pleased with herself about something. "Only Spike and Anya will end up partially clothed or anywhere close to naked."

"And you know this how?"

"Snaffled their famous notepads while they were practising," Hermione replied with a dignified sniff.

"And relayed the information onto your side?"

"I’m a loyal Hogwarts Teacher," Hermione tried to maintain the dignified facade, but couldn’t help grinning broadly at the red-haired witch in front of her. "And I want a chance to see Spike sans clothing."

"Hermione!" Willow squeaked.

Hermione started laughing. "Honestly, Willow! How can I still shock you? We’ve been living together for nearly three months!"

"You were joking?"

"Initially yes," Hermione answered after a brief pause. "But now, just thinking about it, don’t you want to see what he’s hiding under all that black?" Brown eyes twinkled mischievously. "I mean, you look at him and think ‘Yum’. I want to know if the sweet is as promising as it’s wrapper."

"Hermione!" Willow tried to look scandalised.

"Admit it," the older witch laughed. "You’re curious too."

"Well..."

"HA!"

"Hey! I just said ‘well’!"

"And that’s close enough to be a yes in my book," Hermione said cheerfully, leaning over the bed and grabbing Willow’s arm, hauling the younger witch to her feet. "We better move if we want to see him go from fully clothed to naked."

"Eep!"

"You really do blush awfully, easily, don’t you, Will?"

Willow scowled. "I’ve been worse since I met you."

Hermione just laughed. "Nice to see I’ve had such a positive effect," she said, looping her arm through Willow’s as they made their way to the door and out onto the spiral staircase that lead down to the halls.

***

"Mmm."

"My sentiments entirely."

Leaning up to look down at the face of the man beside her, Glory’s lips quirked up in a smile. "I love the way you talk," she remarked, one hand spread on his chest. "It’s so absolutely cutey patootie!"

"Cutey patootie?" Lucius Malfoy repeated, one brow rising.

They were sprawled in the enormous bed in Glory’s suite in the Leaky Cauldron, the sheets and pillows in disarray around them. Half-draped over his body, her fingers were taking in the warm texture of his strange, smooth skin.

It was one of the most positive benefits of being in a female human form, she knew, to be able to interlock intimate parts with the male of the species and create some kind of pleasure from it.

"Yeah, sweetie," she smirked. "You’re a little old cutie patootie."

"Were you anyone else, I would kill you for calling me such an idiotic name," It was said with an amused gleam in his eyes.

"No can do, baby," she bent her head and claimed a kiss. "Can’t kill a goddess."

"A goddess?" The amused gleam was replaced with shrewd speculation. Smart guy, this one. Sneaky.

"You got me, baby," she purred as his hand rose and wove through her thick mass of curly blonde hair, drawing her lips to his again. "I’m a Goddess of Hell and madness with a little bit of the burning, burning...burning like a flickering dancing..."

Malfoy sat up, holding her at arm’s length. "Jinx," he bellowed in a way that she would have bellowed herself.

The minion scampered in, stopping short, eyes bugging, at the sight of his Mistress’ naked body, where she was kneeling on the bed next to an equally naked wizard, his mouth opening and shutting several times.

"Your lady needs replenished, Jinx," Lucius stated. "Get someone now."

"Wh-what?"

"Refill, you filthy little cretin," A thin stick of black wood appeared in the long-haired man’s hand, pointed straight at Jinx. It went without saying that the minion knew that arguing with a man with a magic stick wasn’t a good idea. "Now."

The scabby little minion scampered off and Lucius Malfoy continued to hold Glory at arm’s length, making certain to keep her hands as far from his skull as possible until Jinx returned, dragging one of the witches from the bar.

"Glory," Malfoy gave her a push in the direction of the human, who she grabbed. A strangled cry escaped her as she drew the sanity from the witch’s mind, the power making her stagger back when she withdrew her fingers.

"Oh God...powerful..."

"She was a witch," Malfoy drawled, leaning back on his elbows, as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "They do tend to have more power and brains than the average muggle possesses."

"You don’t like non-magics?" Glory sat down beside him, drawing a slow breath as she felt tingles of power moving through her. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked down at him.

For a human not to intervene when she drained the minds from other humans, in fact to encourage it...it was definitely rare and she definitely was amused by the thought of having a pet human to be her little helper.

His lip curled in a sneer. "What would be the point of a non-pureblood? It’s absurd and obscene. Breeding with them..." he shook his head in disgust. "If I had my way, the world would be purged of mud-bloods and half-bloods."

"Baby, you stick with me and it will be," Glory leaned over him and claimed his lips in another hard kiss.

***

The constant knocking on his portrait-door had been going on for nearly half an hour, but Snape had managed to ignore it.

At least, he had managed to ignore until that annoying, shrill female voice started to whine. "Snapey...c’mon, Snapey...you’re no fun..." THEN she had started to bloody well sing-song it. "Snape-y, Snape-y..."

Slamming his hands down on the desk, which stood against the wall of his room, he clenched his teeth together, making a mental note to find a powerful silencing spell, as he came to his feet.

He had never needed such a spell before now...

Before the Summers hussy had arrived.

Storming towards the door, he threw the painting open with such force he actually heard the occupant utter a girly shriek of surprise. Summers stood there, grinning up at him in a way that he had grown suspicious of.

She was still wearing her muggle clothes that she wore while teaching, suggesting that she had come straight from supper to find him. How she had found his room, he didn’t want to know.

He was still clad in his robes, as he always was. He never changed after classes, until he had finished marking the work and planned for the classes the next day and even then, it was only to go to bed.

"Snapey, I thought you were ignoring me."

"Do not call me by that name," he said quietly, one hand pressed in a fist against the back of the portrait. "And depart. I would prefer to have a single night where I am not distracted or interrupted by you."

"But I owe you, Snapey," she said, smirking at him in a way he was starting to grow quite unnerved by. "I owe you big."

"I...in what way?"

"In the way that you froze me twice at breakfast and left me sitting there looking like a dumb bimbo."

"I’m afraid you did that entirely by yourself, Summers."

There was an odd flicker in her eyes and before he could register what it meant, a shoulder had rammed into his stomach and he was swung off his feet, his upper body dangling down the Slayer’s back, her left arm locked around his legs.

Her right arm came rapidly across her back, her small, but frighteningly strong hand catching his wrists before he had even realised where, when, what and how he was, pinning his arms together.

"SUMMERS!"

He had never been more mortified!

He was slung over a tiny tart of a girl’s shoulder, his arse in the air and no way to break free.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded harshly, trying to jerk his hands free, but it only served to make her hold onto him tighter. He kicked out with his feet, only gaining the same effect from her other arm.

She didn’t answer right away, starting to walk away from his room. He could see the portrait on the door staring after them. The figure in the painting had a hand clapped to its mouth and it was laughing hysterically.

"Summers!"

"Snapey," she chastised cheerfully, as she jogged up a flight of stairs. "I want to get my revenge on you, but this one...well, let’s say its a punishment as well. I should have done this days ago."

"Done what?" he asked, his voice jolting as she bound up the stairs. How the devil could she run up all the stairs, with him on her shoulder and actually manage to talk without sounding even a little out of breath?

"You remember the first time we met, when I told you to wash your hair?" she said, as they reached the top of the stairs and she spun around. Snape watched the black and white floor whirling before his eyes, growing increasingly dizzy. Apparently deciding on a direction to go, she walked briskly onwards, with him still bouncing against her shoulder. "I told you to do that and you didn’t. Do you remember what I said I would have to do?"

The Potions master went rigid.

Surely she would never dare!

Her determined pace told him otherwise.

"Summers!" His violent struggles renewed in earnest this time, he hissed as her arm tightened around his legs when he tried to hurl himself sideways off her shoulder, her grip on his wrists increasing. "Dammit, Summers! Release me!"

She laughed!

The shameless little trollop laughed!

"Oh, I don’t think so, Snapey," she cooed with mock-sweetness. "Ah! Here we are!"

Severues Snape’s frenzied spout of proficient, explicit and colourful curses were quickly cut off as the Slayer carried him into the room she had chosen, the door closing on them.

***

"Hey! No fair!"

Duncan Cameron flashed a broad grin across the pool table at Dawn, who was glaring at him. "Just because ye cannae hit the ball," he teased. "Disnae mean the rest of us are crap at the game."

The two teenagers had snuck down to the games room after curfew, after Dawn had managed to steal Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak from Willow’s bedroom, Willow and Hermione both absent.

The games room was near the staircase that lead up from the Entrance Hall, one of the large, unused rooms which had once served as a classroom in times past. With high, arching ceilings, it was illuminated by torches on each of the four columns, which lined every one of the creamy-white stone walls.

Various muggle forms of entertainment were in the room: a full-size pool table; a foozball table; a set of magically-powered arcade games; a space-hockey table: all on Dawn’s request.

Only a few of the people that Dawn knew had been invited to her games room and most of them - especially the students from wizarding families - loved it, because they had never had a chance to visit a games arcade like it before.

However, it was centrally Dawn and Duncan who spent time there, between his classes and when he wasn’t doing homework, which she had sometimes been able to help him with, especially with D.A.D.A. and Potions.

"Just because you’re a show-off and probably have your own...oh!" she exclaimed, pointing at him accusingly. "I get it! You’re cheating! You’re using magic and you’re cheating so you’ll win!"

"Don’t be daft, Dawn," he laughed. "If I was doin’ magic, you’d be able to tell, because I’d have blown the table to pieces."

"You do kinda suck at charms, don’t you?"

"Hey!"

Dawn grinned. "Well, you do! You almost blew Professor Flitwick out the window with the wind charms."

"At least I made the wind charm work," Duncan tried to feign annoyance, leaning down and potting the last ball on the pool table. "Did ye see the look on Gilmerton’s face when he blasted himself out the door?"

Roger Gilmerton was a snooty, pure-blooded Ravenclaw who just happened to be in the same charms class as Duncan and, while he was very clever, it didn’t make up for his lack of wand control.

Dawn and Duncan had decided it was their sworn duty to bug the crap out of him.

"It was like ‘Aaaaaah! Mommy! Help!’," Dawn laughed, shaking her head. "That guy is such a jerk sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" her companion inquired, grinning.

"All right, all the time," she said as Duncan placed the cue on the empty table and looked around the room. Dawn followed his gaze towards the large grandfather’s clock, which proclaimed it to be close to midnight. "God! It got late real fast!"

"Or early," Duncan agreed. "Think we should go back?"

Dawn nodded, worrying her lower lip. "Buffy’s gonna kill me."

"Oh, don’t worry about her," Duncan grinned. "I bet she’s out settin’ up another trap for old Snape."

"I’ll bet."

The Snape-Summers enmity was already growing to legendary proportions even though they had only been enemies for a couple of weeks. Unknown to Buffy, who told her sister what ‘that jerk’ had done to her, Dawn relayed everything onto her friends, who relayed it onto their respective houses.

It went without saying that every pupil in the school knew that Professors Summers and Snape were locked in a one-up-man-ship contest, which was very entertaining to hear about and see if you were quick enough.

Retrieving the invisibility cloak, Duncan and Dawn headed towards the portrait that covered the doorway and pulled the cloak on, before stepping out into the moonlight-flooded halls of the school.

They had just crossed the landing of the staircase at the top of the Entrance Hall and were on the way down the corridor towards the common room, when a door opened in the middle of the dimly lit hall.

Grabbing at Duncan’s arm beneath the cloak, both of them backed into the nearest window box, which was flooded with clear moonlight, warily watching for whoever or whatever was moving inside the room.

Whatever it was, they could hear wet fabric slapping against the doors in the dark, suggesting that it was probably soaked. The hall was so dark that they could barely see anything, including the door, leaning around the edge of the window box in time to see the occupants of the room.

A tall figure staggered out, making strangely moist squishy noises with every step it took, a second smaller figure striding out of the room after it, a gasp from Dawn suggesting that she recognised who the two figures were.

"If I wasn’t so sure you would break my arms, I would strangle you, Summers," a male voice snarled. Snape.

A laugh escaped the other figure. "Sure you would, Snapey," the voice said and Dawn mentally moaned. What had Buffy been doing in the Prefect showers with Snape of all people? "And remember, you try and get it back to normal, I will do the same again. Repeatedly if I have to."

Snape said something so rude to her sister that Dawn went scarlet under the cloak, her mouth opening in shock. Yeah, Snape had been a bad guy in his time, but where had he learned language like that?

Buffy just laughed again, as Snape spun and stormed off. It would have been an impressive storm if his shoes hadn’t kept making those funny, little squishing sounds with every pace down the hall, leaving a trail of gleaming puddles on the stone.

Dawn risked a glance at Duncan under the cloak. Even by the moonlight, he was as white as a sheet, unable to believe what he had just seen and heard, involving his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and Potions Professor.

"Can he call her that?" he asked Dawn shakily.

"Looks like it," Dawn whispered back, as Buffy, also squishing as she walked off in the opposite direction, disappeared. "C’mon, we gotta get back to the common room and I’ll sleep in there tonight."

They started down the hall a little more cautiously.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be the night for seeing things they rather wouldn’t.

"Have to catch me first!" a voice yelled as they were passing the opening onto one of the spiral staircases that lead up to one of the tower rooms. Dawn blanched. It was only the tower room where the...

"Aw, shite!" Duncan hissed, yanking her back, behind a suit of armour. "The Poker game was tonight!"

Hermione raced out of the opening onto the stairs, dragging the laughing and scarlet in the face Willow after her, by the hand. Her other arm was occupied by a pile of clothes that looked distinctly black and red...

"Hermione!" a male voice yelled. "Bring my sodding clothes back! Now!"

"Oh no!" Dawn squeaked, clapping her hands over her eyes. "Don’t look, Duncan!"

Duncan’s reaction time seemed to have slowed due to the shock of hearing Snape calling Summers Senior some of the rudest things he had ever heard. Whatever caused it, he didn’t look away from the opening in time.

A tall, lean and very naked Spike ran out, pausing and looking left and right.

Duncan’s eyes bugged and he hastily averted his eyes. "Oh my gawd..."

"Told you," Dawn moaned. "Is he gone?"

"I’m not checking!"

"Good thing too, pet," Spike’s voice spoke from nearby, making them both squeal and grab at each other. "Niblet," Spike added, chuckling. "I’d get back to your dorm, if I were you, before big sis finds you’re gone or Red and the Prof find out you’ve filched their cloak."

"I’ll say," Dawn mumbled, her eyes still pressed closed. "But can you just take your big, nudey nakedness away?"

"Why’d’you think I’m about to go up to the tower and wrestle those two feisty birds to get my togs back?" Spike chuckled, patting on top of her cloaked head, after missing twice and jabbing Duncan in the eye. "Can’t be corrupting your innocent eyes until you’re legal, pet."

"Spike!" Dawn wailed.

"And this, luv, is why you don’t go sneaking about after hours," the vampire said with an amused chuckle. "You never know what you might see or hear."

"Yeah, lesson learned, no more sneaking out! Will you just go away already?"

Silence.

Opening her eyes, Dawn looked around Duncan cautiously.

"SPIKE! Eeeeew!"

The vampire just laughed at her horrified shriek, then ran off, his bare feet slapping against the stone of the floor.

"We are so not doing this again," Dawn mumbled. "I have naked-Spike burned into my head now...ew...its like seeing a brother naked...so didn’t need to see any of it..."

"Ditto," Duncan said, his voice a little faint. "Can...can we go back to the tower?"

"Hopefully without seeing or hearing anything again. Ever."

"Uh huh..."

Supporting one another, in silence, they staggered through the corridors, trying to scrape the image of naked Spike from their minds, while trying to forget the litany of unpleasant things that Snape had called Buffy.

Definitely no more sneaking out.