The Eighth Weasley

Notes: I've had people picking on me for the lack in Willow-ness, so big apologies, but I've had so much to fit in the recent chapters, I figured I could let her be minor for a few chapters (she has been there - just not doing anything big!). Don't worry - she'll be getting some more action soon (She's a super-duper-wandless witch - you think that's going to be left alone?). I just wanted the allegiances to be sorted out first, plus multi-character-introduction as well.

Actually, thinking about it, a couple of chapters ago, I had people complaining about the lack in Xander-action. It's kinda difficult to keep tabs on so many people, but trust me, they will all have their part to play! There's a reason that they're all there!

As for Willow being the character of the title and deserving all the attention - that was before I knew what was going to happen ie. coming to Hogwarts, a Glory-connection etc. If I'd known it was going to involve everyone, I would have probably called it something else. Too late now, tho :P

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"This is really too weird."

Xander gave Cordelia, his reinstated girlfriend, an affectionate smile. "Which part of it, sweetie?" he asked, looking at her. "The being-in-a-castle, the wizardy school thing or the us-dating-again thing?"

For the first time since the poker-through-gut-vision, Cordelia was up and about. It was through her insistence that she and Xander had been allowed to come down to the Great Hall for breakfast, her wound almost fully healed.

Pointing with a piece of toast, she directed his attention to the laughing couple who were walking down the aisle of the Hall, hand-in-hand. "Willow being all into the girls... I mean, when did this happen?"

"I dunno," Xander replied, grinning up at the pair as Hermione released Willow's fingers and hurried towards the High Table. "But I wish I'd been there to see it."

"Xander!" An indignant slap was landed on his thigh by the Seer, who gave him a mock-annoyed look, which he counteracted with his best puppy-dog eyes. "You are such a... a... guy!"

"Thanks," he laughed, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table. "And good morning to you, Miss Weasley."

Starting, Willow looked around. "What?"

"Just saying morning, Wills," Xander replied amiably. "And if you keep staring like that without blinking, I've heard there's scientific proof that your eyes will shrivel up and drop out."

"Xander, everyone knows that's just a story..."

"But notice how you blink repeatedly now!" he exclaimed, wagging a finger at her, before taking a bite of his apple. "Oh," he added around a mouthful. "Cordy wants to know how long you've liked girls for."

"Xander," Cordelia hissed, slapping his thigh again.

"What?" he whined, turning the puppy-eyes on her again. "You wanted to know!"

Willow had a hand over her mouth, trying not to grin at them. "You guys are just like you were the first time you went out," she said, looking from one to the other. "Only, you know, kinda older."

"And even better-looking in Cordy's case," Xander said sincerely.

"Are you just trying to stop me being mad at you?"

"Is it working?"

Cordelia's scowl turned into a half-smile. "Yeah..."

"In that case," Xander replied, grinning. "I'm definitely trying." he turned his eyes back to the red head on the other side of the table. She was laughing. "So, Wills... you and the girlies..."

Sniffing dignifiedly, Willow looked around the table which was piled with breakfast foods, summoning a bowl of yoghurt to her hands. "That's none of your business, Xander Harris," she replied coyly.

"But you are really more into girls than guys?" Cordelia asked, sounding hopeful and a little suspicious. "I mean, there's no chance of me finding you and Xander making out again?"

"Cordy!" Willow exclaimed. "There's more chance of Xander running in on you and me making out..."

"Oh dear sweet God in Heaven, don't let that be a joke!" Xander glazed over. "I would die a happy man!"

"Xander!" Both girls yelled indignantly, going scarlet. Cordelia slapped him lightly across the back of the head.

"What?" He raised his hands in self-defence. "I'm a guy!"

Willow pulled a face at him, her nose wrinkling. "You better not mention any of this in front of Hermione," she said. "If she thought it would make me blush more than usual, she would probably invite you to watch. And I get the feeling I shouldn't have said that..." Xander grinned widely at her. "You dare, Xander, and I'll turn you into a... well, I don't know what yet, but it'll be really bad! So bad I can't even think about it! That's how bad it is!"

"I kinda wanna meet this girlfriend of yours properly, Willow," Cordelia remarked, leaning around Xander to look up at the High Table, where Hermione was sitting and chatting with Lorne. "What's she like? A female Xander? Or a female Oz?"

"Actually," Willow beamed up at her lover when Hermione glanced at her. "She's kinda like no one I've ever met before. She's really smart and sweet and nice and she knows so much stuff..."

"Not at all like anyone we know," Xander dead-panned.

"Huh?" Willow stared at him.

"Hello, Wills? Smart, sweet, nice, knows stuff... ringing any bells?"

Willow's face creased in helpless confusion. "Uh... Giles?" she replied with a shrug.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "He means you, Willow," she said, shaking her head, her hand resting on Xander's thigh. "I thought that you were meant to be the smart one around here."

One side of Willow's mouth lifted slightly in a half-smile. "Yeah..." she murmured, looking up at her lover at the High Table again. "I guess we are kinda... sorta alike. Except she's pretty."

"And you are too," Xander said emphatically. "You gotta stop putting yourself down so much, Wills. You're easily as cute as Hermione is." Cordelia coughed, raising a brow. Xander immediately wrapped an arm around her. "Although, neither of you are as gorgeous as my girlfriend, Cordelia."

"You got him well trained," Willow noted, grinning.

Cordelia returned the grin, her brown eyes dancing. "What can I say?" she said airily. "When you're good, you're good."

***

"You look a little nervous."

Wringing his hands, Lorne tried to smile weakly. "If my skin wasn't already green, you'd see how sick with nerves I am!" he exclaimed. "Stage fright has nothing on teaching fright."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Unlike your unfortunate predecessor, you do actually have a history of very accurate predictions, whereas dear Sybill was... less than skilled for the most part."

"But what if I can't teach them anything?"

"You're a psychic, Lorne," Anya piped up from the window, where she was peering out onto the grounds. "You can't teach someone to be a psychic. You can just find the ones who have the ability and show them how to use it."

"She does have a valid point," Dumbledore agreed. "There is bound to be at least one person with some psychic abilities. It's just a matter of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but without making it apparent that you are doing so."

"Oh and that's going to be easy in a room full of paranoid teenagers," Lorne gave the Head Master a look. "You know, bright eyes, I'm starting to realise why the sunny Miss Summers says you're evil."

"Me? Evil?" Dumbledore chuckled. "She must be confusing me with someone else."

"Sure," Lorne snorted. "And I'm the Queen."

The Head Master's eyes twinkled. "If you insist, your Majesty," he said, walking towards the door, Anya hurrying after him. "And we ought to leave you to prepare, as your first students will be here shortly."

"Great...excited about it already... not shaking with nerves at all..." Lorne rubbed his hands together nervously. "And if I suck at this, you won't fire me right away, right? You'll wait until... I don't know... noon maybe?"

"You'll do great, Lorne!" Anya enthused. She had taken a genuine liking to him, simply because of her own former-demon roots. "And if Albus thinks of firing you, I'll change his mind!"

"You will, will you?"

Looping her left arm through his right and taking his hand, her right hand patted his forearm through his robes. "You know I can do it, Albus," she said cheerfully, as they started out of the door. "And you'll enjoy it, because you don't seem to understand that me tickling you is meant to be a bad thing."

"Oh I understand it," Dumbledore replied amiably. "But why should I be afraid when you are so adept at it?"

"You're meant to scream and fight!"

There was a quiet chuckle from the Head Master. "If that is what you require, I'm sure I could provide it, my dear," he replied in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

Shaking his head, watching them go, Lorne closed the door after them.

Turning, he looked around at his classroom, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, as he wondered if he was at all ready for this.

The classroom, on the plus side, made him feel comfortable. It had been selected and adjusted by Dumbledore, who had spent hours cajoling the castle into raising the roof a little, to give the room a domed ceiling which would provide excellent sound.

It was - like Trelawny's tower room - a round room with low tables and comfortable cushioned chairs of various colours beside them, but had a distinct lack of the tacky, gaudy drapes and overused incense sticks.

Windows were positioned all around the walls, flooding the room with bright, fresh daylight, with only the thinnest of white gauze drapes hanging down from brass curtain poles, on brass rings.

A few small paintings hung on the walls, between the tall windows, the occupants preening and primping in preparation for the arrival of the class. Beneath them, small cupboards stood and at one point in the wall, there was a small fireplace.

Most importantly, though, in Lorne's opinion, Dumbledore had been able to provide a magically-powered music system. Very basic, but he knew it would serve to provide a certain ambiance to the room.

Opposite the door, a large chair that looked strangely like a throne with a squishy seat stood. Approaching it, he was amused to notice that, as he neared, the dark blue fabric immediately changed colour to match his silver-blue suit.

Sitting down, he leaned back, unable to smother a groan as he sank into the warm, soft fabric.

Seriously, the wizarding world would have made a fortune if they started selling their variety of furniture to the muggle world. Lorne made a mental note to ask the Head Master to put the seat aside for him to take back to L.A. when he left.

A tap on the door stirred him from revelling in the warm depths of the chair and he opened his eyes. "Come in."

A nervous-looking fourth year peered into the room. "Is... is this divination?"

"Sure is, sweetie," Standing up, Lorne hid his nerves behind a broad smile, spreading his hands in a welcoming gesture, hoping he wouldn't scare them. "Come on in and make yourself comfortable."

Gradually, the class trickled in, most of them sitting as far from his chair as possible, although a few that he had spoken to, a few nights earlier piled into the tables at the front, grinning up at him.

From what he remembered, the house that made up this class was Ravenclaw.

He had been warned that the majority of them were logical thinkers and wouldn't think twice about posing a lot of questions and a couple were notoriously arrogant about their intelligence.

After doing a quick headcount to be sure that everyone was present and accounted for, he took his place at the front of the room. "So, you had Professor Trelawny for Divination. What did she teach you about the subject?"

"That it's all a load of codswallop," a dark-haired boy replied snottily from the back of the class.

One side of Lorne's mouth lifted slightly. "And yet, here you are taking the class, cupcake," he challenged with a knowing look. The boy glowered at him. "So, what makes you think that divination is 'codswallop', then?"

"I don't see how the random alignment of tea leaves in a cup can be said to predict the future."

"You got me there," Lorne admitted, "Although there are some super reliable tea-readers out there. Don't know how they do it, but I gotta admit that they're good at what they do."

"You don't know how it works?" one of the girls beside the dark-haired boy said. "I don't understand how you're meant to teach us, if you don't understand it."

Sitting down, Lorne tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of the chair. "Tell me, sweetie, do you think Professor McGonagall knows exactly how transfiguration works?" the girl opened her mouth to reply, but he pre-empted her. "No, not what it does, because we all know that. How it does what it does."

She frowned, looking to the boy next to her, who looked equally confused.

"Or maybe potions," Lorne continued, receiving a few nods of understanding from some of the closer tables. "If you mix one buncha ingredients, you get soup. You mix another, you get a potion. What makes a potion different from a soup? You wanna ask old cranky britches about it? Go ahead."

"I don't see how this relates to telling the future, though," the boy put in. "After all, you actually learn how to do things in transfiguration and potions. You make things. Change things. Here, you just look at crystal balls and tea leaves and are expected to see things."

"And I'm guessing you chose this course because it looked like it was easy?" The boy said nothing. "Well, hon, let me tell you that divination works. I've been making a living from it for a few years and even if I do it my way, there other ways and I'd say its better to try a bit of everything to find out what you're good at than nothing. If you're a diviner, this is the best place you can learn it and hey! I can correct it or not, from what I know of the future."

"So they got a fortune teller to teach us?"

"I s'pose you could say that, Mr Sceptical. And you are?"

"If you're a fortune teller, you should know."

"Hon, I tell fortunes," Lorne couldn't help violently disliking the boy. Damn, he was even worse than Angel on evil-brood-mode. "I don't really need to tell people their own names, unless they're real dumb. So, I'll ask you again, you are?"

The boy tilted his chin proudly. "Roger Gilmerton."

"Well, Roger," Smiling a rather nasty smile, Lorne pressed his fingertips against his forehead, feigning a spasm. "I foresee that if you don't learn some manners, real fast, you're gonna fail this class."

"You can't do that! I mean, you won't..."

Narrowing red eyes to slits, smirking, Lorne spread his hands expressively. "Hon, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a evil, nasty and all round not-nice demon. Of course I'll do something as evil as fail you for being all mouth and no action in my class."

A few of the other pupils were giggling behind their hands at the mortified look on Roger's face.

"Now, are you gonna apologise and play nice, so we can get on with this?"

Scowling, Roger muttered, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, poodle, but I'm a little hard of hearing... could you repeat that?"

"I am sorry."

Lorne beamed at him "That wasn't so hard was it, sweets? Well, maybe it was for you, but now, let's get into this future thing. How many of you have had a feeling of deja vu, before?"

A dozen hands rose.

"You know, I knew that you'd be the ones," he commented, with a chuckle. "And who knew I was gonna ask that?"

"I did!"

"I know you did," Lorne replied, receiving a chorus of snickers as he clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Baby, I'm on a roll!"

***

"I can see why you like it here," Cordelia said, looking around the grounds as she and Xander descended the staircase onto the lawn, her hand interlocked with his. "It's really beautiful."

The air was crisp and sharp, but not too cold for late January, the sky a clear blue and blotted with puffs of white. However, cold by Los Angeles standards was definitely a lot warmer than cold by Hogwarts standards.

Loaned some of McGonagall's winter robes because she had not packed enough winter clothing, to stave off the chill in the air, the American Seer looked strangely in her element.

"It's okay," Xander admitted, looking across the vast lawn towards the Forbidden Forest. "A bit too magical for me, but everyone else seems to like it... Buffy likes it here. She says it's peaceful."

"Fighting demons in the Great Hall is peaceful... right..."

"We've had worse."

Cordelia grimaced. "Yeah," she murmured, shuddering at the memory of various points during high school. "Way worse... and then, visions had to come along..."

"Worse than high school?"

"I'll say," She pulled a face. "I get 'em in surround sound and three-dimension-style and that's... a giant spider!"

Xander yelped in surprise when she leapt behind him, her arms locking around his neck as she tried to conceal herself from the arachnid that was scuttling across the grass towards them. "Cordy! It's just Meralob!"

"Huh?"

Negotiating Cordelia's arms from his neck, he squatted down as the spider hurried towards him. While it wasn't one of Aragog's larger grandchildren, it still was larger than any spider Cordelia had seen, it's body eighteen inches long.

"Cordy, this is Meralob," Xander answered, clapping the spider on the back, as it's body heaved, suggesting it was a little out of breath. "Great seven times grandson of a friend of mine."

Cordelia gave him a look he recognised. Buffy and Willow had given him the same look when he had told them he was friends with a giant spider. "You really do have a thing for bugs, don't you?"

"Spiders aren't bugs," he replied, grinning a little. "And Aragog and his family... they're nothing like any spiders I've ever met."

"How come?"

"They can talk."

"Pfft!"

"You find something amusing?" a hoarse voice, punctuated by rapid clicks, said.

Brown eyes blinked at the spider.

"Told you," Xander grinned broadly, then turned his attention back to Meralob. "So what got you to come out of the forest at this time of day? Is Aragog all right? Has something happened?"

Meralob bobbed his body from side to side in a gesture that Xander had come to recognise as a negative. "All is well, young one," he replied in his clicking, rasping voice. "Aragog wishes to meet the one you deem your lifemate."

"My lifemate?"

"You said that she is here and Aragog wishes to meet her."

"Without eating her, right?"

The spider chuckled, it's body bobbing again. "Eating of your lifemate is forbidden, young one."

"What's all this lifemate stuff?" Cordelia inquired warily, shivering as she caught a glimpse of the spider over Xander's shoulder. "And why would this Aragog guy want to meet it?"

"It's just something I talked about with him," Straightening up, Xander took one of her hands. "Cordy, I know you're kinda not likin' the bugs, but could you do me a big favour and come and meet Aragog...? Please?"

"Hold on a second... Aragog wants to meet your lifemate, not...hey!"

Xander's grin looked slightly forced. "Did I mention I love you, sweetie?"

Pursing her lips, Cordelia tried to hide the bubble of laughter that was welling up inside of her. "You are such a big dork, Xander Harris!" she exclaimed. "Even after high school!"

"So you'll come with me?"

Huffing a breath out through her nose, she rolled her eyes towards the sky. "I guess so, but if anything creepy and oogy happens, I'm so blaming you!"

***

"You think this is a good idea?"

"Probably not, but I'm gonna to do it anyway."

Kneeling on the floor on top of her folded robes, Dawn was carefully stirring the cauldron of bubbling potion, as Duncan paced back and forth across the bathroom, twisting his hands together.

Between two classes and missing lunch, having broken into the kitchen and accepted the house elves gifts of large, meaty sandwiches, the pair were in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom yet again.

Myrtle was elsewhere, for which they were grateful.

Dauncan had cheerfully insisted it was because Dawn had terrified her, in the wake of the revelation about Willow and Hermione's relationship.

Although she didn't want to admit it, Dawn had to agree, because she had stormed into the bathroom and, ignoring Myrtle's pathetic wails that no one ever paid her any attention, had started screaming a ranting tirade at the ghost.

When she had yelled herself hoarse, Myrtle had hovered in front of her, a look of shock on her glum features. For the first time on record, she made no response, floating backwards into her cubicle and silently sinking down the toilet.

She hadn't been seen in the vicinity of Dawn since.

"I know it could mean I'd be able to avoid gettin' in a bad situation, but..."

Dawn raised her eyes to him. "Duncan, you saw what happened with the demons and things. I don't want you getting in any kind of trouble, so if you need to get out of sight and to safety, at least you'll have this to do it."

"But ye could get in trouble for makin' it for me."

The girl shrugged. "No big," she replied. "I'm not a student here and they can't tell me what to do. If I wanna protect you with some kinda weird soup, I don't care if I'm too young by wizard standards, I'm gonna make it."

"Ye know ye don't have to..."

"And you know that if you don't stop telling me that I'm gonna pour this cauldron over your head!" Dawn responded, casting a glare in his direction. "Will you make with the silence and let me finish this?"

"But..."

"Duncan!"

The Scottish boy fell silent immediately, but didn't stop pacing back and forth as Dawn continued to add different ingredients to the potion, clouds of different coloured steam rising from the pewter container.

Finally returning to the spot where she was kneeling, he squatted down to look into the cauldron, the glutinous dark green potion that was the consistency of porridge contained in the pot.

"Ye expect me to drink that?"

"No," Dawn replied. "I expect you to dance with it! Of course I expect you to drink it! You wanna go and get all killed on us just because you're a wuss and can't drink a little bit of potion?"

"Good point," Duncan's nose wrinkled as he looked into the cauldron. "Are ye sure that's no' spinach?"

"Do you want to wear this cauldron?"

The boy grinned at her. "Just teasin'," he said.

"Good thing you're my friend, or I'd hit you for that! With the cauldron!"

"Och, yer just so lady-like, aren't ye?"

"That's it, Mister! you are goin' down!" Scrambling to her feet, Dawn lunged at him, laughing, Duncan scrambling backwards across the floor, howling in dismay as he was tackled by the shrieking Dawn.

Anyone who passed the toilets that afternoon and heard the anguished howls from within would have assumed that Moaning Myrtle was doing her duty of haunting them, but they would have been far from right.

***

Her chin propped on her hand, eyes gazing blankly at the wall on the other side of the classroom, Willow Weasley was boredly banishing pillows across the room and into the pile building there.

She had been moved up to an older class for charms after Christmas and was trying to do the spells she was meant to, but with so much going on in her mind, from the impending threat of Glory to her lover, resorting to her own mode of magic was so much easier.

Muttering the spells and making the appropriate swish-and-flicks, she was using only the power of her mind to do the banishing, the effort required to control her wand too much to focus on.

There was way too much happening in the school.

Buffy was majorly wigged by Glory and the thought of an army and since Buffy was worrying, that meant that Giles was freaking as well but in his calm and very British way, which meant that the calm centre of their group was shaken.

After all, fighting Glory was one thing.

Fighting Glory as well as an army of miscellaneous hell beasts and wizards was another thing completely.

Part of her wished that she could be more help. Her rage towards the Hell Goddess bubbled up, her fury that the blonde bitch would even think about hurting or scaring Buffy or Dawnie making her shake with anger.

The wood of her wand burned against the palm of her hand and she grit her teeth, the thought of showing Glory just what she felt flooding her mind.

No one hurt her friends and got away with it!

No one upset Buffy, as long as she had anything to say about it!

A shriek of fright made her start and she jolted out of the fantasy, looking around to see who had screamed.

Every eye was on her and she was startled to see Professor Flitwick in between her and the pupils, staring at her. His arms were spread wide, as if he were protecting the other students, his wand in his hand.

"What's up?" she inquired, feeling genuinely puzzled, her anger fading a little.

"You... you were not aware that you were... using your power?"

"Using my power? You mean my wandy power for banishing stuff?" Worried that she had been caught out, she held up her wand anxiously. "See! Got my wand all here and magic and making things banished!"

She waved it in the direction of the pillows, which promptly exploded, showing the room with feathers.

"Um... oops?"

"Out, now," Flitwick ordered the class, his voice crisp.

Amid frightened murmurs, the class hastily grabbed their bags and fled, leaving the red-haired witch to face the Charms Professor.

"Miss Weasley..."

"Um... okay, I was cheating and using mind powery things to move the pillows..."

Flitwick raised a small hand to silence her. "That isn't what frightened your fellow students," he said quietly. He offered her a small handkerchief, which she stared at in confusion. "You're bleeding, Miss Weasley."

"Bleeding?"

"Your nose," he replied. Willow raised a shaking hand and found an ooze of blood trickling from her left nostril. Taking the handkerchief, she pinched her nose, bewildered. "And, only a few moments ago, your eyes were... well... rather black."

"My eyes? Black? Nuh-uh! My eyes are green!"

"I am aware of this, Miss Weasley," he said gently, reaching up to pat her hand. "But for several moments, they were - in fact - black. You also appeared to have summoned some kind of air vortex, or at least a slight breeze to centre around you."

"I-I-I don't get it..."

"Perhaps something has been troubling you enough for more powerful emotions to manifest themselves in you?"

Willow frowned. "Well, I have been... kinda angry at Glory for this whole mess she got us in... and I was thinking about her a few minutes ago... and I did feel kinda mad at her, being a hellgoddessy ho..."

"I would say that would certainly be a positive trigger for a reaction such as the one you showed."

"You mean when I get all cranky, I get scary-looking?"

"I'm not entirely sure," her teacher replied pensively. "But you haven't been able to focus a lot recently. Perhaps you should rest and perhaps spend some time with a loved one, to distract you from this... dark power that is troubling you."

"And not come to classes anymore?"

Flitwick gave her an apologetic look. "Miss Weasley, you must have your anger under your control, as well as actually being focussed when you are present in the class. Using your own abilities, instead of those taught to you..."

"Is cheating," she finished with a sigh, running a hand wearily over her face. "I'll... I think I need to talk to Hermione... she's the one who can help me calm down."

Flitwick patted her hand again. "Take heart, Miss Weasley, you aren't the only one to be angered by this creature."

"Yeah, but I'm the only one who went all creepy-eyed, aren't I?" she replied a little unsteadily, getting to her feet and gathering her wand and bags up. "I'm sorry about the pillows."

"Don't worry, Miss Weasley," Flitwick accompanied her to the door and gave her a sympathetic smile. "You just be sure to recover yourself. I would hate to lose such an adept student."

Willow managed to return the smile weakly. "Thanks."

***

Aragog's huge body heaved, dry branches crackling beneath his immense weight. "I would greatly liked to have met the chosen lifemate of the young one," he said, his voice the thunder murmur that Xander had become familiar with.

"Um.. well, it's nice to... uh... meet you," Cordelia said with the false brightness she performed so well, the sight of the giant spider making her feel a little uneasy, more so since she knew he could squash her with one stamp of a giant leg.

The surroundings weren't exactly comforting either, immense dark trees with twisted and gnarled branches extending skywards, so thick that the sunlight barely permeated the place that the spiders called their 'hollow'.

Cobwebs, silvery in the faint light that had managed to ease it's way into the depths of the hollow, laced between the roots and branches, covering everything in an eerie looking, shimmering veil that still glittered with traces of the morning dew.

In some ways, it was kind of magical to look at, all the webs gleaming with a corona of silver-white, but - of course - the presence of around a hundred spiders of various shapes, sizes and colours was closer to the unnerving than the pretty.

"You sound similar in voice to the young one," the spider noted.

"Um... I do?"

"Your intonation is of similar origins."

"Oh! Right! We're both American!"

Aragog's enormous pincers clicked together. "American? Young one, you stated you were human..."

Xander couldn't help grinning. "America is the land that we come from, Aragog," he answered, squeezing Cordelia's fingers reassuringly. "That's why we sound the same and call ourselves Americans."

"Hmm," the spider shifted slightly, a log splintering beneath his body. "Humans are strange beings. You are all of the same shape and form and yet, you deny that you are all one species, with your names taken from your lands of origin."

"I guess so," Xander agreed. "Don't you take names of the place you come from?"

Aragog's massive head swivelled from side to side. "As long as we have the ability to recognise our kin, we take no importance from origins."

"Xander," Cordelia grabbed his arm.

"Cor...?"

He barely had time to say that, when Cordelia's body jerked from an unseen blow and she stumbled, almost falling. Catching her quickly, the dark-haired youth knelt quickly, cradling her.

"Blond guy... he... he's in pain... skanky blonde woman..." Her voice was shaking, staggered, her hands jerking up to twist into her dark hair. Her fingertips pressed hard against her temples and she screamed in agony.

"Cordy!" The Seer went limp in his arms. Xander shook her gently. "Cor...?"

"Young one?"

"Aragog, I need to get Cordy back to the school! She had a vision!"

A deep booming sound issued from Aragog and there was the frantic rattle of spider legs over logs, a massive spider the size of a Shire horse bounding towards them over the logs and branch-strewn ground.

"Baradol will see you there," Aragog said, extending one of his enormous legs for Xander to use as a lever to lift Cordelia up onto the spider's broad back. Swinging up behind her, he held onto her tightly. "Take care of her, young one."

"I will," Xander said grimly, holding onto both her and the spider tightly, as the spider broke into a rapid gallop towards the edge of the forest and, from there, up towards the school.

***

Sprawled on the furry hearth rug in front of the fire, Glory swung her legs back and forth over her back, studying the moving pictures in the wizard catalogues, witches and wizards strutting around, looking glamorous.

The light oozing in through the tall windows mingled with the flickering golden glow of the flames to light the page she was studying, the heat taking the edge off the wintery chill that still lingered in the manor.

Clad in one of Luce's shirts and not much else, her hair in perfect disarray around her face, she didn't even acknowledge the presence of her lover's wife and son, sitting at the table at the far end of the drawing room.

She knew they were there, the hatred radiating out from the boy palpable, but - until Luce got back - they weren't important enough to garner her attention.

The tension in the room was delicious.

Luce's wife was smart enough not to anger her or even dare to speak to her, for fear of being struck, but the son hadn't learned his lesson and had rapidly been growing more and more annoying.

He wanted to do something, now, she knew.

She also knew that Luce didn't mind what happened to his disrespectful little brat, as long as the boy was left alive.

Rolling onto her back, she glanced at them through slitted eyes and was amused to notice that the boy was glowering at her, while his mother appeared to be trying to look engrossed in the book she was pretending to read.

"Like what you see, puddin'?" she purred, rising to her feet and stretching, the shirt rising up her body.

The boy started to rise, but his mother laid a hand on his in caution. "Mother..."

"Draco, don't."

Shaking his mother's hand off, he glared at the Hell Goddess. "Why don't you go somewhere else and leave our family alone?"

"When it's so much fun seein' you all hot and bothered, sweets?" Glory grinned at him, showing all her teeth, but without humour. Her eyes were cold and deadly. "I don't think so."

Grey eyes - so like Luce's - narrowed to slits. "You don't belong here."

"Damn right, little boy," she replied, raising a hand to casually tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I belong in another dimension, where the Hellfires are burnin' and where people call me by my rightful title."

"And what would that be?"

Glory smiled thinly. "That would be Goddess, Junior."

He laughed, a snort of derisive disdain. "You really are completely mad!"

"Only when I need a top up, baby," she replied with a cool smirk. "And if you don't watch your step..."

"You'll what? Kill me?"

"Hardly, baby," Glory cooed, pacing towards him with the controlled, menacing tread of a predator. "I'll suck your brain as dry as a bone and enjoy every second of seein' you squirm and wriggle on the floor like a worm at my feet."

"You don't scare me."

"Draco," the wife implored, standing up.

"Trouble, my dear?"

Glancing at the doorway, where Luce was standing, Glory smiled at him. "Not at all, baby," she replied. "I'm just thinkin' about teachin' your boy to respect the divinity a lil bitty more."

"Narcissa, honestly, one would think you would raise our son with more manners and common sense," her husband sighed, as he approached Glory, sliding an arm loosely around her waist and smirking at his son.

The hurt in the blonde woman's eyes was palpable. Standing, she looked away. "I think I will go to my quarters," she said in a shaking voice.

"You bastard," the boy hissed at his father. "You... you consort with this... whore! You insult mother!"

"Draco, I would suggest that you hold your tongue."

"No! I've held my tongue long enough, father! How could you? Mother cares for you and you still go and form an allegiance with this American slut, who is quite obviously insane and you do so, right in front of my mother!"

"Draco," The wife stepped alongside him, grasping his arm. "It's all right." Her eyes were warily on Glory, who was grinning nastily at the boy. "Come with me..."

"No, mother! It has to be said!"

"Quite so, my boy," Luce said, his smile snake-like and chilling. "My dear," The words were directed at Glory, who was grinning maniacally. "Would you say that Draco needs to be disciplined?"

"No!" The wife stepped in front of her son. "Don't! Please!"

Glory glanced at Luce, who smiled and nodded.

With a casual backhand that caught the blonde witch across one side of her face, she sent Narcissa flying across the room, crashing against the one of the stone columns that lined the walls.

"You bitch!" The youth threw a blow at her, which Glory easily caught, her hand contracting around his fist. The bones crunched and he screamed, a wild ringing shriek of pain, blood rippling between her fingers.

"No!" the witch moaned, struggling onto her hands and knees, blood running from a wound to her temple. "No, please... use me... leave him... please..."

"Luce, babe, your wife's being kinda distracting..." Luce nodded, crossing the room to his wife, kneeling behind her and locking an arm around her arms and chest, his other hand clamping over her mouth. "Thanks, sweets."

Whimpering, barely conscious, the wife tried to struggle against her husband's tighter grip.

"And now, puddin'," Glory smiled at Draco, who looked grey with pain, his eyes glassy and he was choking on sobs. Her free hand rose, stroking his hair back from his temple. "Lemme see what you have inside your head...."

Draco's sobs of pain rose to a scream as her fingertips thrust into his skull, light radiating out around them. Glory's other hand snapped up and pushed through his skull, smearing his own blood all over his face.

The blonde witch's muffled scream of anguish barely even registered, as Glory drained the powerful youth of everything he had inside.

"Oh don't worry, Narcissa," her husband murmured in her ear, tightening his bruising grip on her. "He'll still be able to sire another Heir for the family, even if he is even more brainless than he is now."

Tears poured down her face, as she was forced to watch the Hell Goddess drain the sanity from her son.

***

Hefting her bag off her shoulder, Hermione straightened and stretched with a groan, her shoulder and back aching from the weight of all the books and scrolls contained in the leather satchel.

She had just finished teaching for the day and had returned to the room, to freshen up and change for the evening, but as soon as she kicked her shoes off and stepped into the room properly, she realised something was wrong.

Sitting in the middle of the mattress of the King-sized four-poster that had replaced their separate beds, Willow was out of her uniform, wearing jeans and fuzzy yellow and orange woolly jumper, her expression miserable.

A rose was hovering in front of her and it was slowly revolving.

"Willow?"

Green eyes rose to her. "Hey," she murmured.

"Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm all fine and dandy," Willow smiled, but it lacked her usual enthusiasm.

"Willow..."

"Okay, maybe not so much with the fine..." the red head admitted reluctantly, taking the rose out of the air. "Or the dandy, for that matter... my power went all screwy in charms and my eyes went all freaky deaky and black!"

"Black?" Crossing the room in several steps, Hermione sat down on the bed beside her lover and lifted Willow's face to her, scrutinising her. "Well, they don't look black now... are you sure?"

"Uh-huh," Willow said uncomfortably, averting her gaze. "The charms class freaked and Flitwick told me that maybe me being angry was making more powerful things happen to me without realising..."

"So he told you to leave the class?"

"He... he kinda told me I needed to wind down a bit. That I needed to get some good vibes in me, so I don't get real angry again..."

"Good vibes?" Hermione lifted Willow's chin again, her thumb brushing along Willow's lower lip. "Would I be able to help you with that little problem?"

The red head's lips rose a little. "I-I did have somethin' I wanted to ask you if you would do and," She raised a hand to stave off the impending questions. "I know you're not big on the wandless magic, but Flitwick said I need to work on my focus and you always get me all focussed up."

"What is it?"

"It's a kinda bonding spell..." Willow's cheeks flushed prettily. "I wanna show you how much you mean to me. This spell lets you feel your lover's emotions and how much they feel for you... it's kinda difficult magic, but it's good for us... like meditation, only..."

"Only?"

Willow blushed even darker. "It's kinda... sexy and stuff..."

"All right, you've convinced me," Hermione said with a broad grin. "Where do you want me?"

Patting the spot just beside her on the bed, Willow nibbled her lip, as she arranged them both, so they were sitting hip-to-thigh, facing one another. Willow's right hip was resting against the middle of Hermione's right thigh and vice versa.

"What now?"

"There's a joint incantation, a bit like a chant-mantra-thingie," Willow explained, groping through a pile of notes that had been lying on the bed beside her, withdrawing one before depositing the rest on the floor beside the bed. "We invoke it and then... stuff, should happen."

Hermione nodded. "Doesn't sound too difficult," she said, leaning forward to look down at the parchment in Willow's hands, one of her hand lying lightly on Willow's thigh. "Do we chant together or individually?"

"We take an alternate line each. It's only four lines, so no big... you wanna start?"

Her eyes skimming the lines, Hermione smiled. "I think I can manage that. Is there any way that we would specifically have to do this? I'm not very familiar with the routines of wandless powers."

Raising her right hand, Willow lifted Hermione's hand with her other one and placed her lover's palm against hers. "We have to be in continual contact for it to work. No matter what happens, you can't let go..."

"Why?"

Willow's expression turned mischievous. "You'll miss out on the best part."

"Shall we start, then? I'm rather curious now."

Wetting her lips, Willow nodded. "You first."

Hermione drew a breath, then whispered the first line of the incantation. Willow said the second line, both of them trembling slightly as the power began to manifest around them both.

It took great effort on Hermione's part to stammer her way through the second line of the spell, the emotions already building in her to an intensity that was making her giddy with pleasure.

The moment that the last words left Willow's lips, both witches gasped, their fingers interlocking as the emotional boundaries between them were lowered and pure, undiluted love spilled between them.

Unfamiliar with the sheer force of the magic passing between them, Hermione was the first to fall back against the mattress, pupils dilated, her breath escaping in shaking pants, her face flushed.

Moments later, Willow flopped back, boneless and breathless.

Their fingers still intertwined, Hermione felt immensely proud of herself when she managed to twitch the tips in a gesture that she was still, in fact, conscious.

"Wow..." was all she seemed capable of saying.

Willow smiled weakly. "Ditto..."

***

Bloodshot brown eyes wearily opened.

While uncertain where she was, the American Seer could tell that she was lying in a warm, soft bed, on top of the blankets. The room was filled with warm afternoon light and the ceiling was high above her.

"Hey sweetie," A green face swam into Cordelia's line of sight. "How you feelin'?"

Trying to smile weakly, the Seer swallowed hard and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue before answering, "My head..." One hand rose and touched her temple. "It felt like someone... something had been pushed into my head..."

"It was," Xander's voice said, shaking. One of his hands squeezed her other one, but couldn't find the energy to turn her head to look at him. "Glory... she drained someone else... word just came in that another victim just arrived at the wizard hospital. Giles and the Head Teacher-guy went to see what happened."

"Oh God..." she whispered, tears burning in her eyes. "I... I shoulda..."

The bed shifted as Xander at down beside her, to her left. "Are you okay, Cordy?"

"I should have been here... I should have been able to tell everyone right away... I... what if I was meant to tell the person who was meant to save them?" Her eyes bored into Xander's. "What if I'm failing as a Seer?"

"That'll never happen, Cordy," Xander held her shaking hands between his. "You couldn't have saved this guy. Word came in just after we got you back here and we don't even know where Glory is."

Cordelia closed her eyes. "I... why him? If there wasn't any chance that we could do anything...?"

"On the good side, sweetie," Lorne said gently. "At least you know that nothin' bad is happenin' in the school, if your vision is tellin' you about things that are goin' on outside. That has to be reassuring, right? We know Glory isn't here..."

"But that guy..."

"Cordy, if he's the worst thing happening in this part of the world, I think its kinda a good thing that he wasn't someone from the school," Xander said seriously. "I know it sounds mean to say it, but better them than us."

Reluctantly nodding, Cordelia struggled to sit up, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I hate it," she whispered, as Xander wrapped her up in his arms. "I-I see this stuff and I can't help... I hate it..."

"I know, baby," he murmured, stroking her tangled hair. "I know."

***

Walking through the corridors of St. Mungo's, Giles couldn't help feeling unnerved at the feel of the place. From somewhere in the depths of the hospital, he could hear the screams of some of the insane residents.

The whole place resembled the old-fashioned Victorian hospitals that used to be shown in television programmes, the bitter smell of disinfectant making his nostrils burn, the sterile whiteness chilling.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as Dumbledore turned right, into the ward where Glory's victims had been sequestered, most of them bound on the beds by magic, to prevent them from wandering off.

At the far end of the room, a single figure was sitting on a bed, next to a mumbling individual, the very person they had come to see, and as they approached, Giles felt a jolt of familiarity go through him.

"Narcissa?"

The blonde-haired witch was tenderly stroking the cheek of the young man who was lying on the bed, tears shining on her face. There was a nasty cut visible on her right temple and blood still caked her brow.

"Mrs Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore said softly, when they were less than three paces from the bed.

Turning, Narcissa Malfoy looked up at them. "Oh... you..." Her eyes moved past him to Giles. "R-Rupert? What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as Albus, I'm afraid, Narcissa," he replied, studying the woman he had known briefly at Hogwarts. She had been a few years below them and had been one of the Ravenclaw students that Ginger tutored. "This is your son?"

"My only child," she replied sadly, looking back at the boy. He was mumbling, his eyes darting this way and that. "He... Lucius let that bitch do this to him," the venom coating her words was acidic.

"Lucius let her?" Dumbledore echoed in shock. "His own son?"

Narcissa's beautiful face tightened in distaste. "He has been having an affair with that American... thing for months now," she replied. "I-I knew she did things to drive people insane, but I assumed it was torture..."

"Lucius has been having an affair with Glory? Dear God..."

"I hoped he wouldn't get bored with me like everyone said, but he did... I don't understand why it had to be a lunatic like that..."

Giles and Dumbledore exchanged looks.

"Narcissa," Dumbledore said softly. "Glory is no ordinary woman. She is, in fact, a Goddess from a Hell dimension and we believe that Lucius is aiding her in her quest to return to her own world."

"You mean she wasn't joking? No wonder Lucius found her appealing."

There was a moment of silence, then Giles spoke.

"Narcissa, I know this may not be a good time to broach the subject, but your son has been damaged by her. She's gathering an army and we are building a force to stand against her. Would you be willing to stand with us?"

Narcissa stroked her son's white cheek. He shuddered at the touch, whimpering and mumbling incoherently. Sighing, she shook her head and looked up at them. "I can't join you," she said quietly. "Lucius is my husband and I must stay with him."

"He betrayed you and your son!"

"I know," she said quietly. "But he is still my husband and commands my loyalty."

Giles' expression gave way to one of disbelief. "How can you return to him after what he has done to your son?" he demanded angrily, grabbing her shoulder. "We need your help... the information you can provide..."

"Rupert," Albus touched his shoulder, his expression stern. "I believe that Narcissa has her own reasons for making this decision." Giles didn't look entirely satisfied, but nodded. "Narcissa, you know that - should you require sanctuary or aid - the school is always open to you."

The witch nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

"Rupert, perhaps the mediwitches can provide us with some information."

With a last look at Narcissa, who ignored him in favour of her babbling son, Giles exhaled a sharp huff of air, then stalked after the Head Master, agitation still etched on his face.

***

"So you feeling calmer?"

Willow nodded at the Slayer, smiling a little. "Yeah. A whole lot," she replied with an affectionate look at her girlfriend. "Hermione made me feel better."

"In a way that I never imagined possible," Hermione agreed dryly, a hand resting on her lover's thigh, where they were was sitting on the low balustrade at the bottom of the stairs that led onto the grounds.

The trio were waiting for the delivery by portkey from America, the defences ready to drop at any second. The sun had just set over the horizon, the sky darkening, and they were expecting at least one new arrival at any moment.

Buffy shook her head. "You guys are terrible," she said, chuckling, while twirling an axe in her hands. "I thought Xander and Cordy being all with the smoochies was wiggy, but you two with the magic smoocies..."

"Jealous?" Willow grinned.

"Of you guys? Puh-lease!" Green and brown eyes looked at her skeptically and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, maybe a little. It's been a while since I had any smoochies of any kind."

"How long?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Almost a... hey! I'm not telling you that!" Buffy exclaimed, going more than a little pink at the memory of her last smoochies.

"Almost got her," Willow laughed, squeezing Hermione's hand. "And Buffy, you really have to find someone for the smoochie-making! It's not good that you're all on your own and the rest of us are all snuggly!"

"You don't need to tell me that," Buffy agreed dryly. "But I don't have time to deal with the whole issue of someone special at the moment. I mean, hello! Impending war, death and disaster..."

Resting her head on Willow's shoulder, Hermione hmm'd for a few moments. "I suppose we could arrange for you to have a nice, one-night-stand with Sirius before we all go out and prepare to die..."

"Hermione!"

"What? I can't have you fighting with all that pent up sexual tension. You might be.. well... rather... tense."

"Does she have a way with words or what?" Willow snickered, her cheek resting against the top of Hermione's head.

"No with the snuggles with Sirius!" Buffy said emphatically, wagging a finger at both of them in warning. "I mean, yeah, he's a nice guy and everything, but he's not my kind of guy."

"You mean in the fact that he's uberhot..."

"And rather sexy in his underwear..."

"You saw Sirius' underwear?"

"Um... I was staying with Harry one summer..."

"Guys! I don't care how hot you think he is! I'm not gonna have a thing with a guy who can become a great big freaky dog whenever he wants to!"

Willow and Hermione both stared at her, then seemed to go into a mutual visual place. "Oh... my... God..." Willow blurted out, her eyes widening. "I so did not need to think of that ever!"

"Seconded," Hermione agreed, her face twisted in a nauseous expression. "Thank you very much, Buffy. I'll never be able to look one of my friends in the eye again."

Buffy beamed at them. "I try," she said, whipping around sharply at a whoosh of air, axe raised.

A figure landed on the grass, panting and breathless.

Another whoosh sounded and two more people practically landed on top of the first.

"Good L-Lord..." one of them stammered, struggling to sit up.

"Whatta rush!" another said.

Approaching, Buffy looked down at the heap of tangled arms and legs lying on the grass in front of her. "Hey, Wesley..." she said to the topmost figure, who looked up, his glasses on a little skewed.

"B? What the hell just happened?" The bottom figure wriggled out from beneath the other two, staggering to her feet and looking around. Pale-faced and gaunt, the other Slayer blinked. "Where the hell is this?"

Buffy offered a stabilising hand, which the other Slayer accepted, swaying unsteadily on her feet. "Angel gave you the necklace?"

"Uh... yeah..."

"Just call it a bit of magic," Buffy said. "And you guys... Wesley... and...you."

"Gunn," the third person said, scrambling onto his feet. He was a tall, lean black man with a wary look in his eyes. "Charles Gunn. You must be that Slaygal that old Angel was sweet on."

"That'd be me," Buffy agreed. "Wesley, Faith, you know Willow," She nodded to the red-haired witch behind her. Willow waggled her fingers. "Charles, this is Will. And all of you, the brown-haired lunatic beside her is her girlfriend, Hermione."

"Good goin' Red," Faith said, with a grin. "Got quite a package there. Natural glow about ya both too..."

Hermione beamed, while Willow went scarlet. "Thank you," the brown-haired witch said. "And," she motioned up towards the castle, the three new arrivals gaping up at it in astonishment. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~