The Eighth Weasley

Notes: This is going to be an odd chapter. I can't wait. Can't think of anything much else to except that I'm still working back from 52, which is really a bit stupid...and that I'm extremely sleepy. And whee! Semi-naked Spike appears shortly before I start giving him depths! Be afraid! Be very afraid!

New notes (Jan 11th) - What? I'm going through all chapters I've had written since Oct/Nov and commenting on them. This one's admittedly one of my favourites :) I have odd taste. And I am honestly having far too much fun with this whole storyline.

Oh, and when I say 'bitter end', don't take it to mean angsty-end. I prevented Joyce from dying of cancer to make this less angsty. This isn't an angst fic. Or, at least, I'm hoping it won't be one. What I meant is that NOTHING anyone says is going to change my mind about what happens :)

Now...here's the challenge - stick with me until the end of this monster :D Only 28 chs after this one. Egads. So many chapters. I've never written anything this big before.

And whoo! This is the biggest chapter so far, by a couple of hundred words. Spiffy!

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Pulling the painting closed behind him, a candle in his hands, the canvas behind him thick enough to block out any light, Spike yawned as he made his way across the room. It was small, but a lot more comfortable than his crypt in Sunnydale.

Here, he had a bed, a chair to throw things over unceremoniously - which he did well, after years of practising the same because it had driven the neat-freak Angelus up the wall - and a chest of drawers, all a vampire really needed at all.

A lazy smile crossed his lips as he placed the candle he was carrying on the small chest of drawers that stood beside the four-poster double bed that took up much of the stone floor.

He had just been helping in a class full of fifth years.

They had been the first ones in the school, so far, to see him for what he really was and he honestly thought some of them had cacked their pants at the sight of his true vampiric face.

Apparently, most of them had assumed that he was just a random piece of eye-candy that the Professor had brought along to keep her company and who was also known for lurking around the classroom of the Deputy Head Mistress, who - everyone had believed - would never associate with a vampire.

Okay, he was a rude, foul-mouthed, leather-wearing, bad-attitude-bearing piece of eye-candy who was rarely seen to eat anything, but apparently they had all assumed he was human.

He smirked to himself.

One of the silly bints in the class had fainted when he had growled at her.

Humans were really just too much fun.

Stripping off his jacket, he tossed it carelessly over the chair that stood a foot from the end of the bed and it was rapidly followed by his shirt, T-shirt and jeans, leaving him clad in his boxers.

Yanking the dark blood-red - he chuckled at Dumbledore's quirky sense of humour - blankets and white sheets back on the bed, he flung himself down on the soft mattress and did something that no one in the Scooby Gang had ever or would ever see him do.

Withdrawing a pair of rectangular gold-rimmed glasses from a case on the chest of drawers beside his bed, he put them on and picked up the hefty book from the top of the cabinet that - along with the spectacles and the rather spiffy room - had been a gift from Dumbledore on his arrival.

He liked the old Wizard, he really did.

Dumbledore had qualities that no human he ever met had shared.

Except perhaps Minnie.

While Dumbledore was amusing and witty with an innately quirky nature, as well as having a mind that resided in the gutter, though very few people realised it, he had a side that Spike found fascinating.

The powerful side.

The sheer, undiluted power rippled from the wizard in throbbing waves, controlled and concealed under the mask of that gentle, rather frail grandfather figure which most people saw him as.

Along with the Slayer, her bratling sister, Dawn, and Minnie, of course, Spike could easily accept that Dumbledore would be added to his list of people that he would be willing to lay down his life for.

Stupid really, considering he was dead and all, but very few people stirred such an emotion in him.

Yes, it had taken a while for him to accept that he had grown to love first Minnie, his feisty witch, the Slayer and her squirt of a sister in turn, but now...

Dumbledore was like family, in an odd way.

He had all the qualities that Spike liked, except perhaps the compulsion to drink blood and kill things randomly. Dumbledore had control, which Spike knew he had a distinct lack of and part of him wished he had got to Dumbledore, when the wizard was younger and turned him.

He would have been perfect.

Which is exactly the feeling that the vampire had when he considered what he would have done with the Slayer and her sister, had he been given the chance.

Shaking his head, Spike grinned a little.

Yeah, the people he protected with his life were the ones that he would have wanted to turn the most.

Or keep as fiery partners for wild, clawing, rolling-on-the-floor shagging in Minnie's case, although now, he imagined her more as the tough bird he could get pissed with in a pub, before joining a riot.

It was still hard to believe she had been the strict, disciplinarian Deputy Head Mistress of a wizarding school for nearly forty years.

Life was funny that way.

Reaching behind his back, Spike yanked the thick pillows up against the headboard and settled back against them, the blankets and sheets strewn lazily over his hips, opening the book at the point where he had reached.

He had barely read a line when the candle sputtered out.

That - in itself - was very odd, because he was in a sealed box of stone deep inside the school and draughts were nigh impossible in the room. He jerked upright in the bed, his face shifting to stare around the darkness of his room.

A low chuckle from nearby made him look around suspiciously.

"Whose there?" he demanded sliding towards the edge of the four-poster bed, only to feel something press down on the other side. Whatever the something was, it was crawling across the bed to him.

"I think you know..." a reedy female voice whispered in his ear, a slender hand sliding over his shoulder and down his chest, nails ticklishly scratching against his skin. "My little pet..."

The blonde vampire's eyes grew enormous.

His Sire! His bloody Sire was in Hogwarts! Drusilla, the insane vampiress who had 'made' him over a century ago was here, in Hogwarts, in his room! Bollixed to hell didn't come close to describing this scenario!

Mentally, he was screaming all manner of rude things that would probably have had him kicked out the school if he said them aloud.

"You...you came back?"

"The little puppy didn't think mummy had gone away for ever, did he?" Cool lips stroked down his throat making him shiver. A second hand ran over his tousled hair and his face was turned towards his visitor. "Peekaboo."

"How...?"

A fingertip touched his lips. "Don't snap so, my Spike," the raven-haired woman breathed, her face nearly touching his. "I would be frightfully cross and would have to spank you..."

"But the school..."

"It's a reunion, all over again, mmm..." she purred against his ear. "Always welcome the naughty pupil, who used to hide in the clock tower..."

"You...you came here? You were a witch?"

"Ding dong, my little Spike. Mother would not have tolerated such naughtiness in the eyes of God. Magic....always whispering in my head...but no, my sweet. This was not my place. Mother told me no. The naughty snake opened the door to us," Her tongue curled around his earlobe. "I have come to play hide and peek...count to ten and I shall find what I seek..." Her teeth scraped over his pulsepoint making him shudder and it wasn't with pleasure.

This just wasn't what he needed.

Not now.

Not when he had formed a new family, a new allegiance.

Grabbing the vampiress' arms, he pushed her away from him. "What do you want, Dru?" he demanded harshly. "What are you doing here?"

"The gleaming one..." she said, her voice misty and dreamy. "She wishes to unlock the door, but she can do no such thing..." She pouted, making a strange whimpering sound in her throat. "Do you know why, my Spike?"

"No, pet. Why?"

Arching forward against his hands that were holding her upper arms, Drusilla's face was barely a breath from his. "Because," she hissed, craning towards him. "The bad slayer has stolen her key..."

"The key?" Spike's jaw felt like it had locked, a spasm shooting through his cheek.

"Mmm..."

"And you've come to get the key?"

The vampiress giggled. "Why, my Spike, I do believe you are thinking about being a tattle-tale!" she tutted, shaking her head, her hair swirling around her face. "I shall tell you no more."

"Dru, pet," he cajoled, releasing her arms. "When could I ever resist you?"

Drusilla pouted at him. "When you started to hide behind the Slayer's apron, my pet, you could resist..." Her right hand caught him in a hard slap that knocked him back with the force. "It is frightfully naughty."

Grimacing, Spike rubbed his stinging cheek. "Pet, please, tell me...are you going to kill her?"

A slim hand slapped against his chest. "My Spike," there was a note of reproving irritation in her voice. "You are asking all kinds of questions. You want to tell your fair lady with sunshine in her hair and dust on her fingers."

"Luv, if you're going to kill the Slayer and the niblet, I want to help," He grinned at her through the darkness, silently hoping and praying that she wasn't doing her mind-whammy on him. "Nothing quite as sweet as the young ones."

In less than three seconds, he was on his back in the middle of the bed, with his Sire straddling his belly, her cool, familiar hands spread on his chest. "If you can tell me the magic word that makes the angel fly away..."

"The painting password for their room?"

"That's my clever Spike..."

He shook his head. "I don't know it," he lied, gasping as her nails bit into his skin.

The irritation in her voice became a low growl of anger. "You are telling such filthy fibs, you naughty boy. I am displeased," He felt Drusilla's body pressing down against his and it wasn't in a pleasant way. "You will do what you are told, my wicked little pet. Mummy is home."

The savage gleam of the golden eyes, the only thing he could see in the dimness of his room, made the one hundred and twenty-eight year old vampire want to curl up in a ball and cry.

***

"So, how are you doing, Aragog?"

The spider clicked his pincers. "We are recovering, young one," he answered, as Xander continued to unwind the healing strips that Hagrid had placed on his arachnid friend's wounded limbs.

It had been weeks since the attacks had happened, when the demons that invaded the Great Hall had swept through the hollow where the majority of the spiders lived, a large contingent of their family wiped out.

Aragog had been badly injured when he blindly struggled into the fray to help his children and grandchildren. It had taken all his strength to drag himself to the edge of the forest to tell Hagrid of what had happened.

After filling in the Head Master and checking that everyone in the school had been all right, Xander had offered to help Hagrid to patch up Aragog's wounds, the spider forced to remain just inside the edge of the woods until he regained his strength.

A shelter had been built for the arachnid by the boy and the half-giant, to protect the blind old spider from the winter elements and, for the first time in his life, he had accepted the presence of someone besides Hagrid as a friend.

It had only been a few days earlier that Aragog had returned to the Hollow and, as Hagrid had his hands full with grounds-keeping, Xander had offered to go to check on the giant spider for him, to be sure that the wounds were healing.

While Willow and Buffy had both shuddered when he had informed them of what he was doing that day, at breakfast just an hour before, he couldn't understand why they were still terrified of the eight-legged creatures.

"And it looks like this leg is all right, as well," he noted, touching the healed patch on the limb gently. The tissues had knit together, although there was a bare patch, where savage claws had torn the spider's limb open.

"I am grateful to you, young one," the spider's voice was punctuated by the rhythmic clicks of his pincers. "There are very few of your kind who would treat my kind with such courtesy."

"If Hagrid likes you," Xander replied. "You can't be bad."

Aragog laughed, a deep, booming sound. "Many would disagree with you about trusting the opinion of Hagrid, young one," he said, painstakingly shifting a huge leg to allow Xander access to the bandages on it. "After all, he favours those that most would revile."

"He's a good guy. He knows that you don't have to trust appearances. I mean, you just gotta look at him to see that. Anyone would think he was some kind of monster, but he's a real nice guy."

The spider's head twisted and he nodded slowly. "Yes," he agreed ponderously. "He is a rarity, indeed. As are you."

"Me? Nah. I'm nothing special."

Aragog studied him. "You are here, in our Hollow, young one," he said after several moments. "Very few would be and yet, you aid us. You aid the creatures that many of your kind hate and fear."

Xander went a deep shade of beetroot. "Well, I had to help," he said, blushing. "It's no big deal, really." He turned his attention to Aragog's bandaged leg, unwinding the healing linens.

"You have no wish to be with your friends?"

"They're all real busy right now," the boy answered. "I wouldn't want to get in their way and all the magic up at the school...I mean, I don't really mind magic, but in the school, there's just way too much. I don't feel comfortable with it."

Aragog made a sound of appreciation for Xander's words.

A clicking sound from nearby made Xander look up, as a fairly large spider dashed past, chasing a group of smaller ones, identical in shape and pattern. Charging into the middle of the group, the large spider's clicking grew more frenetic, as the little ones swarmed all over it.

"She is their dam, young one," Aragog said, clearly understanding that Xander's hand stilling meant that the boy was watching. "They are playing together. They are causing her no harm."

"I was kinda wondering," Xander admitted.

"Her lifemate was killed in the attack," the spider said, a tone of sadness in his deep, clicking voice. "She has many children and no mate with whom to raise them. It will be difficult for her."

Xander looked up at the spider. "Are they your grandchildren?"

"Many generations on, yes," Aragog said. "We are a close family. She will have help from our kind, but it is difficult when a lifemate is lost."

"Have you...did you have a lifemate?"

Aragog's head swivelled in Xander's direction. "You believe I was able to lay the eggs to produce a family as extensive as this one, young one?" He chuckled again. "I might be a rare breed, but I have not yet been able to reproduce myself." Xander had to smile at that. "But yes, young one, I had a lifemate. She died, many years ago."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because...she died..."

"You were not to blame, young one," Aragog countered. "There is no reason for you to apologise. We had many years together and for those years, I am grateful." Xander nodded, understanding. "And you, young one. Do you have a lifemate?"

"Me?" Xander laughed at the thought, returning his attention to Aragog's strips of bandage. "No. I...I've had girlfriends, but I've never found someone who would stay with me for life. I don't think I'm the settle down kinda guy, really."

"Your temporary mates did not satisfy you?"

"What's with the big curiousity in my private life?" Xander inquired, half-laughing.

Aragog cocked his head. "I have never understood human mating procedures, young one," he explained. "I am curious."

"In that case, yes, they satisfied me when were together, but we...grew apart. We changed. In a few cases, they changed big time," He shuddered at the memory. "A preying mantis and a mummy were two of the worst."

"You have chosen mates outside your kind?"

Xander pulled a face. "Not by choice," he replied. "They were both dark magical beings or something like that. Not of the good. All of the others I was involved with were human."

"You have a temporary mate now?"

"I did, until a few weeks ago," Xander replied, checking the wound, which was in the same condition as the one on Aragog's forelimb. "This leg is healed as well. Got any more?"

A third leg was shifted and Xander ducked around Aragog's body to reach it, leaning against the spider's shaggy side, avoiding the largest patches of sticky webbing around his feet.

"This mate was not to your liking?"

"She was great," Xander replied, speaking up a little, as he unbound the next strip of bandage. "But she...we were way too different to stay together much longer. I always end up picking people who are nothing like me."

"You see good in them."

"I guess so," Xander agreed pensively, wadding the pile of healing strips together then ducking under Aragog's massive foreleg to reach the patch of padding on the spider's side.

The spider was silent for a moment, but for the steady clicking of it's pincers. "You say you have changed, young one," he finally remarked. "If you have changed, then would you perhaps be more suited to one of your previous temporary mates?"

Xander's hand stilled on Aragog's side. "I guess..." he replied. "But I don't know what the deal is with them. I mean, one of them has...well, I'd guess Hermione would be Will's lifemate...but Cordy..."

"Cordy?"

"My first girlfriend," Xander answered. "We hated each other for years and then we ended up together. We argued all the time, even when we were together, because it was a normal thing for us to do."

"Humans are very strange," Aragog decided. "I do not understand your kind."

"Gotta agree with the strangeness of us," Xander laughed, removing the last patches of wadding from the healed wounds. "I'm a human and I don't even understand us and..." He paused, looking around. "What's that noise?"

Aragog's massive body heaved up. "One of my grandchildren...with word..."

The young man looked around at the rapid approach of one of Aragog's smaller kin, the foot-long spider scuttling over logs and branches towards them, its pincers clicking wildly.

"What's he...er...she...um...what's the news?"

"New creatures have arrived at the school," the small spider chittered nervously. "A demon and a vampire..."

Before the smaller spider had even finished talking, Xander had dived out from beneath Aragog's body and was sprinting, at full speed, through the Dark Forest, back towards the castle.

***

It was pitch dark.

That should have made it intolerable.

It didn't.

Oh, God, it didn't!

The Slayer groped out behind her, a low shelf stabilising her until her assailant jerked her sideways, making her lose her footing and stumble back, his rough hands the only thing keeping her from falling.

Buffy released a grunt when she was slammed back against the brick wall, the tall, dark figure descending on her and crushing her mouth was his.

Harsh fingertips bit into the small of her back and she released a sharp gasp as a stinging bite was placed on her throat. "Don't you dare give me another hickey, you moody bastard," she hissed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, impertinent tramp," Snape's voice was a low hiss against her throat and she moaned as he nipped under her jaw, then somehow managed to find her lips in the darkness.

Thrusting her hands into his hair - which really felt incredible, like cool strands of silk against her skin - she twisted to force him up against the unseen wall, breaking out of the kiss, panting. The air was stuffy, scented with preservative fluids, but that didn't stop it feeling so damn good.

"You really are a stuffy Goth, y'know."

Their lips clashed again, harder, his callused hands pinning her slim upper arms by her sides, knowing full well that she could break his grip, but pulling her forcefully against his chest.

One hand slid down and under her robes and she shuddered in pleasure at the feel of his fingers scraping her knee-length skirt up her thigh, every callus and ridge of his hands rough against the smooth skin.

His lips touched her throat and she jerked against him when he lightly bit the scar on her throat, then flicked his tongue over it, tracing the outline.

"Holy..."

"Sh," His mouth silenced hers briefly. "No such language, you avaricious trull."

"Mmm...nice one, Snapey..." She chuckled at his low, throaty growl of aggravation at the nickname. "Trull...are you...oh God..." Whatever she had been considering asking trailed off as his body was pressed flush against hers.

His hand gripping her thigh, he jerked her leg up to the level of his hip, coarse material of his robes making the sensitive skin of her inner-thighs tingle. His mouth continued to ravage her throat, her little moans growing louder.

"Professor Snape?" a voice called, muffled by wood and stone.

"Dammit!" Snape hissed.

Buffy couldn't help it.

She released a giggle.

A dry hand pressed over her mouth, Snape's other hand on her back, holding her firmly against him. "Shut up, you silly girl," he whispered, sounding more than a little frustrated with her.

Sniggering behind his hand, she listened intently, but apparently whoever was in the classroom had departed and the Potions Master released her, leaving her ready to drop on her ass on the floor.

Nothing like being interrupted to ruin the mood.

Although, there wasn't really a 'mood' for what they were doing.

Random groping and smooching sessions in various places were hardly the means that lead to a happy and fulfilling relationship, although it had been happening on a regular basis for nearly two weeks.

A blaze of light filled the supplies cupboard and she squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes. She could see Snape silhouetted in the doorway and wondered briefly why he had stopped short.

Straightening up, she smoothed her skirt back down to it's proper level, adjusting her robes and hurrying forward, smoothing her hair until she reached Snape's level and also stopped short, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Omigod..."

"I do prefer Albus, Miss Summers," said Dumbledore, sitting on the edge of the desk in front of them, smiling.

"Head Master," Snape side-stepped a little way away from the Slayer. "I'm afraid you caught us at a rather...bad moment."

"Yes," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them both and Buffy wished the floor would open up beneath her. She couldn't remember being so embarrassed about anything, ever! Her lips were swollen, her hair and clothing mussed and she knew that he knew exactly what they had been doing. "I'm sure you were simply having a very close inspection of the interior of the supplies cupboard."

"Well, yeah! Of course!" she exclaimed. "What else would we be doing?"

Dumbledore looked at her and she was sure, absolutely without a doubt certain, that he was smirking!

Snape was scowling at Dumbledore and seemed to be sharing the Slayer's present desire to smack the old wizard over the head with something big, heavy and hard to get that smirk off his face.

It wasn't right!

Dumbledore wasn't meant to smirk like he knew exactly what was happening.

"If you're so good," she said, remembering something that she had discussed with him several days before, pointing at him. "Why were you sneaking to the astronomy tower at four o'clock in the morning?"

She felt more than saw Snape's eyes flick to her, then to Dumbledore, who had gone a rather fetching shade of pink beneath his beard.

The Head Master got his feet much more quickly than the Slayer believed he could move and sniffed. "I had to be certain that no pupils were utilising the tower for... inappropriate behaviour. Although," he gave her a shrewd look. "I hear cupboards are far more fitting this year."

Beside her, Snape growled.

Dumbledore chuckled, smoothing his robes. "As it is, Miss Summers, I did actually come down here to inform you that you have a delivery awaiting your inspection in the Entrance Hall," he said.

"You came down here instead of going to my classroom?"

"It was rather fortunate, that I had such foresight, was it not?" The twinkle was back in his eye and he smiled. "And I didn't even have to resort to locking the pair of you in a room together. The Potions cupboard served quite well enough, I see."

Buffy went shocking pink again, while Snape's face seemed to develop to very red blotches on his cheeks, his fists clenching by his sides in a manner that made the Head Master chuckle.

"I'll go and get my delivery," the Slayer announced firmly, squeezing past Snape to get to the door of the class, deliberately rubbing against his body and earning another low growl from him. "Oh and I think you made 'trull' up, you...uh...big jerk."

Black eyes flashed at her. "Oh, very imaginative, you incorrigible reprobate."

"Are you sure that's a real word?" she asked, pausing at the door. "The incorri-one?"

"Of course it's a real word," he snapped, huffing a breath out of flared nostrils.

She grinned at him and she could see his fingers twitch like he wanted to grab her by the throat and shake her. "Just checking," she said, before striding out of the room, leaving Snape scowling after her and Dumbledore chuckling.

"You are a most fascinating pair to observe," the Head Master remarked cheerfully. Snape said nothing, his lip curling in distaste. "I assume that you will shortly be following her upstairs, to see what her delivery is?"

Snape glared at the old Wizard. "I wouldn't waste my time," he spat.

Dumbledore looked towards the ceiling, the impish twinkle back in his eye. "Just as you said you would not waste your time enclosed in a potions supply cupboard with the Slayer, doing that which I have no idea about?"

"Oh..." Vivid blotches of colour reappeared on the Potions Master's face. "Shut up!"

Still chuckling to himself, the Head Master got to his feet, smoothing his robes down, and made his way past the glowering Potions Master, convinced he could hear a low growl emanating from him.

Like Buffy, he paused in the doorway. "If I were you," he said with a small smile. "I would make my way up to the Entrance Hall now. After all, there may be something dangerous awaiting her."

A thump sounded from the desk, when Snape slammed his fist down on it.

"I suppose that is a 'maybe'," Dumbledore said jovially, before exiting the room.

***

"Luce, babe, there's a big old owl outside the window."

Lucius Malfoy looked up from the immense book of spells he had been perusing, searching for a way to break past the protective barrier that had surrounded Hogwarts, with his lover's additional power.

At the massive windows, a dark smudge against the backdrop of the pale, cool grey January skies, his own owl stood patiently. The sun was visible only as a marginally paler smear against the overhung sky outside, even though it was near noon.

So...there was a mid-day delivery, which meant it could only be from one person.

"Ah, Lucifer," he murmured, rising from the desk and approaching the window. He opened it to allow the owl to present him with a scroll bound with a black ribbon. "It appears that your young lady has deigned to correspond with us, my dear."

Lazing on the couch, one fingertip thrust through the head of an unfortunate muggle, to draw the power from it in slow, satisfying sips, Glory glanced at him over the back of the couch. "In English, baby?"

"Your pet vampire has sent a report," he replied, opening the scroll. "She wishes you to know that she is about to make her play and will shortly be able to deliver your gift to you, with or without her...sweet's aid."

Withdrawing her fingers from the brow of the muggle she had been feeding from, the Hell Goddess rose to her feet and luxuriously stretched her body, the red dress riding up her thighs.

"I kinda get the feeling things are goin' our way, don't you, baby?"

Rolling the scroll up again, Lucius turned to the woman. "I would certainly be prone to agree," he murmured, depositing the letter on the window sill and turning to face her. "One might even consider celebrating this step forward."

"Mmm-hmm..." Glory purred, strolling towards him and sliding her hands up the folds of his loose, white shirt and over his shoulders. "So, baby, how'd'you..."

The door opening interrupted any question she might have asked.

Draco Malfoy looked into the study and, more importantly, at the scarlet-clad Hell Goddess, who currently had her arms draped around his father, both of them standing in front of the windows. His eyes flicked to the babbling muggle rocking on the floor, his lip curling.

"Father," he acknowledged.

"Ah, Draco," Lucius replied, one arm snaking around Glory's waist and caressing her back. "This had better be important, my boy."

Youthful grey eyes flashed at Glory, who smirked and spread her hand on Lucius' chest. "I have to agree with your daddy, Draco, honey," she cooed. "Me and him...we have some celebrating to do and you're kinda a bit too...well...not invited."

"Father," Draco repeated, his expression hard. "Mother wishes to see you."

"Your mother understands the need for patience. I do not answer the immediate whims of a woman," Lucius said, waving his hand dismissively. "I will be with her shortly. Now, off with you."

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and he stalked out.

"Now, my dear..." Lucius turned his attention back to his lover. "Something is troubling you?"

Glory's eyes lingered on the door of the study. "I don't like your boy, Luce, and the feeling's mutual," she replied, her expression darkening. "If you don't warn him to mind his manners, I won't be blamed..."

Lucius caught her chin, turning her face back to his, grey eyes meeting blue-green, a slight smirk on his lips. "My dear Goddess," he said softly. "What makes you think I would desire to warn him?"

Her brow furrowed slightly, then she beamed at him. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Luce," she said, before kissing him.

***

"Will you let me out of here?"

"All right, already! It's not like you haven't been locked in a box before!"

The sight that greeted anyone passing through the entrance Hall was certainly absurd to say the least: a gorgeous, well-endowed brunette struggling with the lid of a large, sealed box that looked like it was made of lead, yelling at it in frustration.

It was about seven feet long and three feet deep and wide. And it was rocking on the floor, as if something was battling to get out of it.

"Cordelia?" The young woman struggling with the lid looked up. "Cordelia! Oh my God! Cordy!" A small blonde flew across the checked black and white floor, hugging the brunette. "What are you doing here?"

Cordelia pulled a face. "Had one of those wonderful vision things and, I have to say, not getting any funner." She studied the Slayer. "And what the hell are you meant to be, all robey and badly-dressed?"

"Would you believe I'm a teacher here?" Buffy gestured around them, at the marble staircases, moving paintings and students who were lingering as they passed on their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Teacher? You? Puh-lease!"

"Uh...hey, Buffy..." a sheepish voice spoke from the box on the floor and the Slayer looked down, eyes widening.

"Oh yeah," The brunette nodded towards the box. "Angel."

"Why is he in a box?"

"Sunlight."

The Slayer nodded, bending and easily ripping the metal lid off the box, her former boyfriend erupting from the box, gagging. He looked even paler than usual and his eyes were burning gold, ridges and fangs visible.

"Don't ever let me agree to that again."

Buffy stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm guessing you're here because of one of Cordy's visions?"

Angel nodded, leaning heavily against the side of his travelling case, taking deep gulps of air, even though he didn't need it. "And Dru..." he said. "She's back and she had Darla. Darla...she disappeared, but Cordy saw Dru here...near you."

"Darla? But you poofed Darla..."

"Long story..."

"Bad guys brought her back from the dead and made Dru vamp her," Cordelia said helpfully.

Angel raised his eyes ceilingwards. "Okay, maybe not so long."

"Any chance of you..." Buffy waved a hand in front of her face, her eyes on Angel's features. "You might scare the kids..."

Nodding, Angel shifted his features back into the human planes. He gazed down at her for a long moment. "How are you?"

"Okay. You?"

"I've been locked in a lead crate for the last three days, to get here, so I'm not exactly at my best."

"God, can you feel the tension?" Cordelia interrupted, rolling her eyes. "And, hey, Buffy, you might wanna look into getting your Slay-sense checked," She nodded in the direction of one of the doors that opened into the hall. "Vamp at two o'clock."

The Slayer was already reaching under her robes for Mr. Pointy as she turned, then laughed aloud at the sight of Snape standing in the shadows of the stairs, arms folded over his chest, regarding the scene through half-closed eyes. "Him? He's not a vamp."

"Looks like one," the brunette muttered. "Evil enough for it."

"I wouldn't even both trying to stake him, if he was a vamp," the blonde said, her eyes twinkling, when Snape's black eyes narrowed at her. "First I'd have to get through fifty layers of clothing and then actually have to find where his heart is, if he actually has one."

"Who is he, if he's not the big evil?"

Buffy, still chuckling, turned to him. "He's a teacher. Snapey, come on over! Got some people who wanna meet you."

He seemed to glide forwards without moving at all - a trick Buffy had only ever seen Dracula using before and hot damn! It still looked just as impressive, even when it was Snapey doing it.

"You are aware, Summers, that you have just invited another vampire to enter the school?" he said, in his lowest murmur, black eyes locked on Angel's face as the vampire climbed unsteadily out of the crate and stood up.

"Don't you get all moody on me," she replied. "If you must know, it wasn't me that did the inviting. It must have been Dumbledore."

"If you mean that old guy with the big beard, yeah," Cordelia added. "He told me to bring the box in while Lorne unloads the carriage."

Angel had straightened up to his full height, which brought him level with Snape, and he was suspiciously regarding the Potions Master, who was gazing coldly back at him, his eyes black and emotionless.

"So who are you?" the vampire demanded.

"Oh, yeah!" the Slayer interrupted. "Introductions. Snapey, meet Angel also known as Angelus, one of the Scourge of Europe before getting souled up," Angel flinched at the description. "Angel, meet Snapey, Potions teacher, King of the Bad-Mood, former evil-guy-supporting Death Eater and spy for the good guys and all around bad-ass."

"Summers," Snape growled.

"Don't you 'Summers' me, Snapey," she shot a look at him.

Turning his attention to the vampire, Snape's face was as emotionless as it had ever been seen. Angel, throwing his shoulders back, stared determinedly right back at him, his jaw tensing.

With the revelations that Angel was a former blood-thirsty vampire psychopath and that Snape was previously an agent of the Dark Lord, there was clearly going to be little good feeling in the room.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to introduce them?" Cordelia asked in a whisper, to Buffy, who was standing back and snickering. "I mean, big, brooding-in-shadows-super-bad-tempered-I'm-gonna-fire-my-employees-and-go-off-on-a-personal-vendetta vampire against big, mean-looking bad-moody guy."

"Just watch," she suggested in a lowered voice. "It'll be...interesting."

The power and dislike radiating from the two men was practically palpable, Angel's eyes flaring into gold as they faced off. However, unlike most people, Snape didn't back down in the face of a growling vampire.

His upper lip curled. "Most impressive."

"I could rip your throat out."

"Really?" Snape's voice was dry. "Oh, I do believe I just pissed myself with terror."

"So you should."

Snape's brow lifted marginally. "Indeed." He looked bored, not at all like he was about to wet himself with fear.

Angel appeared both angry and confused. For the first time in his life, as a vampire, he was dealing with someone who didn't seem the least bit afraid of him, even when in vamp-mode.

And something told him that if Angelus was in control at the time, he would actually like the man he was facing.

For some reason, Angel didn't like that thought any more than he liked the man standing before him and, with a growl, his hand locked around Snape's throat, jerking the Potions Teacher towards him and lifting him off his feet.

"Angel!"

"Shut up, Summers," Snape rasped, glaring down at the vampire.

He hadn't even raised his hands to try and pry Angel's fingers from his throat, as so many people did when caught like this, dangling inches above the ground. His arms were by his sides, hands clenched in fists.

The vampire couldn't help staring at the human. He wasn't even afraid now. Those eerie black eyes were staring at him with contempt as if he were an example of the lowest scum of the earth.

"So, what do you intend to do now?" he asked, his voice choked, mainly by Angel's hand around his throat. "Kill me?" He made a gagging noise, when Angel tightened his fist, lifting him a little higher from the floor. The Potions Master's face was going ashen, but it wasn't from fear. He definitely was anything but afraid. More than likely it was the lack of oxygen.. "Must say... Dumbledore won't...be pleased..."

"Angel! Will you drop him!" Buffy actually sounded angry and worried. Snape felt his lips rising in a smirk, as spots of black started to edge in on his vision, something that seemed to infuriate the vampire even more.

Casting the black-clad human aside, Angel snarled.

Snape staggered against the crate, almost falling to his knees, his hands grasping the metal to hold himself upright. Blinking to clear his vision, he slowly straightened up again, turning his chalk-white face back to Angel, his sneer still in place.

"Such a temper," he whispered dangerously, his voice hoarse. His black eyes were glittering in warning. "You ought to be careful who you use it against. Some people may not... appreciate it."

The vampire - much to the surprise of the two girls - back-stepped. He actually looked almost...scared?

"Now, Summers," the dark teacher growled, still glaring at Angel, his upper lip curling. "If you have any of your former lovers, who wish to threaten me in a more professional fashion, I will be in my classroom."

Despite the fact he was as white as a ghost and looked a little unsteady, he pulled himself up and strode off, his black cloak and robes flaring around him in a way that reminded Buffy of Angel's 'King of Pain' look.

"Are you sure that guy is normal?" Cordelia asked, leaning sideways to watch him sweep out of sight.

Buffy smiled weakly at the brunette, although she couldn't help wondering if Snapey was all right. He had looked paler than usual and that was saying something. Still, she was also fighting the absurd urge to giggle.

The face-off between the pair was just how she had imagined it.

Correction, it was even more entertaining.

"Not many people around here are what you can call normal, Cord..." her voice trailed off at the sight of the figure who had just staggered into the hall, laden down with bags.

"Cordy, sweetie! I know you told me to bring the luggage, but honey! Twenty bags has to be overkill!"

The...it had to be a demon, dropped the bags on the floor. He was either a demon, or very green in the face with horns. Yep, definitely demon, but he wasn't acting like the demons she was used to.

"Lorne! Be careful with those!"

Smoothing down his vivid silver-blue suit, the demon gave her a pointed, red-eyed look. "Sweetie, you want a bellhop, check in to the Hilton." He breezed over to the startled blonde. "Oh hey! You must be the Slayer!"

Buffy stared at the hand that was offered to her, then to the demon. "Uh...hi."

"I'm Lorne," Ignoring her lack of hand-sticking-out, he grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. "Enchante, if I may say, and cute! Tall, dark and broody over there never mentioned just how cute you were, cupcake."

"Huh?"

Cordelia swatted the demon-guy away from the Slayer. "Lorne helps us out sometimes," she explained. "He runs a demon karaoke bar in L.A. and he was told by his source to tag along with us."

"Demon karaoke...?"

"Singin', sweetie!" Lorne said enthusiastically. "Food for the soul, even if tall-dark-and-cranky-pants doesn't agree." He nodded to Angel. Buffy choked back a laugh at the description, then looked around the hall. "You know, I bet the acoustics..."

"No!" Angel snapped. "No singing!"

Lorne threw a look at the vampire. "One day, mister-I'm-cranky-because-I-travelled-in-a-box, you too will understand the joy of music."

"Music yes, you singing, never."

Buffy couldn't help laughing as Angel sent his glare at the green demon. It was obvious that the vampire was feeling a bit...irritated thanks to his confrontation with Snapey and needed someone to take it out on.

"Look," she stepped between them. "You came here because of one of Cordy's visions. Maybe we should find Dumbledore and the others and see what we can make of it, right?"

"Cute and smart!" Lorne smiled at her. "Honey, I think I'm going to like working with you." He offered her an arm. "May I?"

"Buffy!" a yell rang in from the grounds a moment before Xander ran into the entrance hall, face flushed. He stopped short at the sight of Buffy in the process of looping her arm through the demon's, then appeared to notice the two dark-haired individuals. "Oh...right...you know already..."

"Know what?" Buffy asked, concerned, as Xander doubled over, panting.

Xander motioned to Cordelia, Angel and Lorne.

"Was out in the Dark Forest, seeing Aragog," he replied, panting. "Spider showed up... told us that a demon and vampire just arrived...thought you'd wanna know..." He grinned weakly. "Shoulda known you guys would...actually," He straightened up, still breathless. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Vision thing," Cordelia replied, hurrying towards him and grabbing his arm. "You okay, Xander?"

"Yeah...yeah..." He nodded, blinking as she pulled him up and let him wrap an arm around her shoulder to keep him upright. "Just need to...not die...that'd be good..."

"Always the wannabe hero, huh?" She gave him an affectionate smile. "You're just the same old Xander."

"Hey, I got you in my arms again, didn't I?" he retorted.

"Like you wanted," She rolled her eyes expressively.

"As if I wouldn't want that," he replied.

Cordelia stared at him.

"Not to be the one to break up the uber-cuteness of this Hallmark moment," Lorne interrupted, waving a hand. "But we do have a reason for being here and personally, I wanna explain, so I can get to the exploring this fantabulous castle!"

"You'll love it," Buffy said.

"I bet, sweetcakes," Lorne winked at her. "Angel, you big, brooding hunk of grumpy vampireness, you coming?" Angel growled and Lorne laughed. "I'll take that as a big old yes, then. Lead the way, sweetie!"

***

"You saw what?"

Duncan drew a quick cross on his chest with his finger. "I saw a demon on the way up from the entrance hall, Dawnie," he replied. "Cross my heart. A green bloke with horns and red eyes and everything!"

Grabbing Duncan by the arm, Dawn hauled him into her room, pulling the painting shut behind him. "Okay...let me get this straight," she said, pointing at him, a look of concern on her face. "You saw a demon? Walking into the entrance Hall?"

"Aye!" he exclaimed. "With a big fella with dark hair and a woman with dark hair and big... er... eyes!"

"Eyes?" Dawn gave him a look.

"Aye?" he replied, taking a careful backstep.

"Okay...I'll ignore you being such a boy and you'll tell me what else you saw."

"Yer sister."

"Was she kicking the demon's butt?"

Duncan considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "She was holding his arm and they were laughing about something," he replied. "It was well weird, but I think the big blokey was growling at them."

"Hold on a second...did any of them call each other any names?"

"Er..." The boy paused, scratching his head, his brow wrinkling in thought, then he nodded. "Aye. The green bloke called one of them Angel and the dark-haired woman was hugging Xander."

"Angel?" Dawn squealed. "Omigod! I haven't seen him in, like, forever!"

"We know him, then?"

"Know him? Duncan! He's only the vampire my sister dated for nearly three years!"

Duncan's face went from one end of the colour spectrum to the other, his mouth opening and shutting several times. "He-he's that Angel?" he whispered. "Big? Sticky outy forehead? Spiky hair?"

"Omigod! This is so cool!"

"Aye, but ye said he only shows up when there's trouble..."

Dawn made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "No biggie! Danger comes, Buffy and Angel kick it's collective ass!" She bound over to her side of the room, kneeling down and hauling out a drawer. "I have to give them a welcome surprise."

"No! Dawnie, that's not very nice of ye!"

Dawn pulled out a few T-shirts from the drawer, revealing a stash of bottles. "Who told you I was nice?" she asked with a grin. "So, Duncan, you gonna help me out with this or not?"

Duncan pulled his righteously indignant face. "Yer a terrible influence on me, Dawn Summers," he sighed.

"Which means...?"

"Of course I'm gonnae help ye!" he replied, grinning. "Ye think I'd want tae miss out on all the fun?"

Dawn smirked at him. "You're so predictable."

"Yer such a daft cow," he retorted. "Dae ye see me complainin'?"

They exchanged grins and she tossed a bottle to him. "This is gonna be our best yet."

***

The Great Hall was alive with chatter.

Rumour had it that the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts had some friends visiting and that one of them might be a demon of some kind, but the teacher had yet to arrive in the Hall.

However, her sister, the muggle boy, Anya Emerson and the youngest Weasley were already sitting at the table near the end of the Gryffindor table. There was a distinct absence of the glaring, blonde-haired man that many of the Gryffindor girls thought was cute.

When Summers Junior had been asked about him, she had looked confused.

Apparently, he hadn't been seen anywhere in the school by any of the Gryffindor pupils at least since the previous day when he had been in attendance at one of Summers Senior's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Someone said something about going to check on him, but at that moment, all thoughts of checking on the blonde hunk fled.

The doors at the head of the hall swung open and an instant silence fell, several people rising in their seats to see who was entering, more than a dozen mouths falling open in shock at the...thing with Professor Summers.

Whatever it was, it was tall, striking and green-skinned with a long nose and chin, as well as green-tinted sandy hair that stood up in a highly-fashionable style. Horns were visible on its forehead, just at the hairline, and its eyes were a brilliant shade of ruby. It was wearing a very bright silver-blue suit.

It really was a demon!

And it was arm-in-arm with the Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor...

Why wasn't she killing it? That seemed to be the question that was being pondered by many of the pupils, as Professor Summers cheerfully lead the green guy into the hall, where he stopped short and stared up.

As usual, the bewitched ceiling matched that of the sky outside, the fading gold of the sunset shooting strands of fire through wispy puffs of gold, purple, rose and silver cloud, against a falling backdrop of deep, misty blue.

Candles bobbed between them and the ceiling, but it did little to obscure the view of the winter sky.

"Oh my God!" he gasped. "Oh, honey, this is beautiful! I have to get one of these! Only, kind of without the L.A. sky, cause hello! Ew!"

"That's what I thought when I saw it for the first time," Summers said, laughing. "I mean the wow-ness of the roof, not the L.A. sky thing."

"Oh God...oh, honey, I have to..." He gave the Professor a hopeful look and she nodded with a broad smile.

In the dead silence of the Hall, the demon's voice soared out into the most exotic acapella rendition of 'Somewhere over the rainbow' that any of them had ever heard, the acoustics making it ring around them to perfection.

Any jaws that hadn't been sagging moments before, certainly were now.

When the song finally ended, there was an even deeper, awe-struck silence, during which the Professor took the demon's arm and they continued to walk down the central aisle, between the two rows of tables.

"Wow!" A Ravenclaw girl nearby was the first to speak, as the pair passed. "You... wow! Your voice!"

The demon gave her an amiable look. "Glad you liked it, sweetie," He smiled and mussed her hair, as he was dragged onwards by the blonde Professor, the two people following behind them barely even being noticed. "Someone hereabout told me that music is the greatest magic and you know, sweetie, I gotta agree!"

"Professor Summers," Snape stood up at the head table. "What is that...thing?"

Everyone in the Hall saw the icy glare that crossed the young Professor's face in the direction of the Potions Master. If looks could have killed, Snape would have dropped dead ten times over.

"I don't know how you did it, petal," the demon bent closer to whisper. "But it looks like we've finally found a real rival for the King of tall-dark-and-moody." He shot a look over his shoulder at the dark-haired man walking behind him. "What's got his panties in a bunch?"

"Guilt, again."

The demon sighed. "Ain't it always the way?"

Professor Summers chuckled, then smiled sweetly up at Snape. "This is my friend, Lorne, Snapey," she said in a voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. "And if you so much as look at him the wrong way, I will beat you senseless. If you're real lucky, I'll use the axe."

A few pupils chuckled at that. Summers was tiny. So tiny that she didn't come close to reaching Snape's shoulder when she was standing at her full height. Her beating him senseless was an absurd image to say the least.

Only a few of very observant pupils noted that Snape's face went a shade paler than usual and he sat down quickly, a muscle in his cheek twitching. His lips were pursed and he was glaring.

Summers paused right in front of Dumbledore, who nodded, and she turned around to face the hall, clapping her hands for attention.

"Everyone," All eyes turned to her and her demon friend. "This guy here with me is Lorne and he's from Los Angeles in America. Yes, he is a demon," Gasps rippled around the Hall. "But he's one of the few decent ones, so I don't want any of you trying spells on him or offending him. He's a friend of mine and if anyone tries to hurt him or upsets him in any way while he's here...well, I might be small, but I can still bite a mean ankle!"

A few laughs rippled around the hall and she gave the demon a smile.

Leading Lorne up to the head table, where one extra seat had been placed for him, she hadn't anticipated the delighted squeal from her sister, when the two people behind her moved into the Gryffindor table's line of sight.

"Angel!"

"Omigod! Angel! Cordelia!" Willow was fast to echo it. The red-haired witch and the younger Summers sister practically tackled the startled dark-haired pair, Dawn latching onto Angel like a limpet, while Willow hugged the startled Cordelia.

"Hey...Willow...and you..." Cordelia was studying Dawn in confusion.

"Dawn," the girl replied.

"Buffy's sister?" Willow offered, hoping the two new arrivals would take the hint.

"Oh! Right!" Cordelia threw her hands up. Having been away from Sunnydale when Dawn, as the Key, had arrived, Angel and Cordelia's memories had not been altered to fit the Slayer's little sister in. "God knows where my memory is today, Dawnie! Great to see you."

Angel was looking down at the dark girl - who had locked her arms around his waist and was cuddling against his chest - as if he had never seen her before. Slowly, a smile came onto his face and he returned the hug.

At the Head table between Lorne and Hermione, Buffy blew out a sigh of relief, as she watched her sister drag the vampire and the seer towards the 'Sunnydale' table, where extra spaces seemed to have miraculously appeared.

Xander was smiling at Cordelia, as she sat down next to him. Anya actually glanced in their direction with a knowing look, then her eyes darted to Dumbledore, who nodded, but the Slayer's attention was elsewhere for the time being.

The whole scenario with Dawn as the Key, Glory and everything else being so hectic had been detailed in the brief meeting they had had with Dumbledore, before their guests were shown to their rooms.

It made her feel a little better to see Angel accepting it.

It had startled her how easily everyone at Hogwarts had taken the news as well.

It wasn't every day - at least not that she knew of - that a key made of supernatural energy was mutated into the human sister of the vampire slaying Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Every member of the teaching staff had listened to the explanation Dumbledore had given, detailing what they had learned about Dawn, and accepted it instantly.

Even Snapey.

Him and Angel had been the two people she had been most dubious about.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Lorne murmured to her. "He may be a big grump, but his heart is in the right place."

"Angel...?"

She turned to find the demon gazing at her, a strange smile on his lips. "I wasn't talking about Angel," he said enigmatically, before turning to Hagrid, who was seated a short distance away from him and offering an introduction.

Shaking her head, confused, Buffy risked a glance along the table to where Snape was sitting. She felt a pang of guilt when she spotted dark bruises at the top of his throat, granted to him by Angel's hand.

Mind you, she mused, it wasn't exactly your fault they hate each other.

She glanced at his neck again. The bruises were almost hidden by his high-necked collar. Flicking her eyes up his face, a flush of crimson rose from her chest upwards as she realised that he was watching her from beneath half-closed lids.

It almost made her chuckle to notice he was glaring, again.

He always looked so grumpy when he looked at her in public...

Omigod...

Flashing an agonised look at Lorne, Buffy felt her cheeks burning.

Surely he didn't know...

Red eyes turned to her briefly, as if aware of her watching him. "Like I said, sweetie, heart in the right place."

The only sound the Slayer could think to make was a whimper.

Of course, that was seconds before Angel foolishly accepted an offer of a chip from Dawn, with her own special variety of flavouring added to it.

It proved slightly distracting for the Slayer.

Somehow, the thought of being glared at by a grumpy potions Professor was pushed from her mind due to the fact that there was a vampire porcupine making a rapid waddle for freedom up the middle of the Great Hall, while Cordelia and Xander fell against one another, laughing.

"It looks just like his hair," Cordelia gasped, clutching onto Xander's arm.

Xander's face was split by a wide grin. "You know, I never thought there would be a day I'd be so happy to see the soulman," he laughed, as Buffy went racing past, trying to catch the porcupine, in case it wandered into danger.

There were few serious faces left by the time the fleeing porcupine was caught under a quickly-emptied soup tureen which was quickly sat upon by the slayer, to prevent it making another break for liberty.

Glaring pointedly at her snickering sister and the dark-haired boy next to her, Buffy folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "How long does this one last for, Dawnie?" she asked.

Dawn shrugged, unable to respond for giggles.

"He's gonna be so pissed when he changes back to his normal self," Cordelia noted, but it was punctuated by giggles.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, giving her a knowing look. "But it'll be worth it for all the jokes you can make about his hair."