Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

Chapter 8: Possession and Providence

"I'm sorry, but let's not forget that I hated Angel long before you guys jumped on the bandwagon. So I think I deserve a little something for not saying 'I told you so' long before now. And if Giles wants to go after the, uh, fiend that murdered his girlfriend, I say, 'Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!'" -Xander, "Passion"

Harry's head was so full of thoughts for the rest of the week that he had difficulty managing much of anything, despite Hermione's dire predictions that he would lose points or get detention if he didn't work on the essays they had due for Charms and History of Magic. Then something happened Monday that pushed everything else out of his mind.

He and Snape had their final Occlumency lesson that evening, or so Harry hoped. He approached Snape's office door with a mixture of trepidation and optimism, allowing himself to believe that perhaps this might be the last time he would have to suffer Snape attempting to break through his barriers and sneak looks at his worst memories. He knocked on the door and entered at Snape's irritated "Come in!"

"I've spoken with the Headmaster," Snape began without preamble. "I will judge how well you've improved after this lesson, and then we will speak with him directly afterwards. With that in mind Potter, I do hope to see some significant progress this week." His lip curled as he glared at Harry. "I'd rather not see that cousin of yours even once more. Vile, disgusting creature."

Harry thought it might be the first time he and Snape had ever agreed. "Yes, Professor," he said, preparing himself for the lesson. Snape stood and walked around his desk to face Harry.

"Legilemens! " Snape shouted. Harry could feel the professor trying to force his way into his mind, to break down the barriers he had erected. Over the past few months, spurred more by a desire to keep Snape out of his head than anything else, Harry had put a lot of effort into his Occlumency studies. He could keep Snape out for several minutes at a time now, if he concentrated properly.

Harry focused all his energy on Snape, trying to keep the man in his sight. He found if he could see his professor, he had an easier time defending himself. Lately he had begun to improve in controlling his reactions as well; it had been weeks since he had reflexively hexed Snape to escape his probing, although sometimes he hexed him just for the fun of it. After a few minutes of intense concentration, though, Harry could feel his barriers begin to waver until finally, with an intense glare from Snape, they exploded and Harry found himself in a dark club, the club from his dreams. This had never happened before; it was usually memories from childhood or, more often, reliving that night at the Department of Mysteries. For a moment Harry felt excitement well up inside him--perhaps now he'd finally be able to understand what Sirius was trying to tell him!

Sirius stood next to him on a balcony high above the dancers, sipping a fizzy drink contentedly. "Back again, then?" Sirius asked. Before Harry could see what happened next, the vision lifted as suddenly as it had come, leaving him gasping and confused.

Snape stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "I don't know what's worse," he commented, "witnessing all those pathetic scenes from your childhood, or having to see him again."

Harry could barely tame the anger that roared to life inside him at Snape's words. "Don't talk about him!" he said, glaring furiously. "You don't deserve--"

"I would not finish that sentence if I were you, Potter!" Snape spat. "Let's forget it, shall we? Legilimens!"

Unprepared for the sudden attack, Harry immediately found himself back in the club, but the images were rushing past him now like a too-fast slide show, so that he could only catch brief snippets of them.

"...fear no more the heat o' the sun..."

"...I'm always Sirius..."

"...love is blood, screaming inside to work its will..."

And suddenly a strange feeling came over him, one he had felt only once before, in the Ministry of Magic, when Voldemort had tried to possess him. His vision went dark and blank but his body felt hot and tingly. His arms moved of their own volition, wrenching painfully as his body attempted to fight off the power that flooded him. "Finite Incantatum!" he heard his own voice yell as his mouth moved against his will.

Harry couldn't see, could barely hear as his body attempted to eject the force that had invaded him. It was painful, but not nearly so much as when Voldemort had possessed him. Because of that he didn't think it was Voldemort this time, but he didn't want anyone trying to possess him! He fought hard, forcing all his will against the presence. Dimly he heard himself speaking, but barely registered the words as he tried to shove the invader out of him.

"Snivellus," he heard himself say with a kind of savage delight.

"Black," he heard Snape's angry, confused voice as if from far away, "you're meant to be dead!"

"I may be dead, but at least I'm still pretty, which is more than I can say for you. Honestly, Snivellus. There's this new-fangled invention we call soap. You might want to try it sometime."

"You fool! You could damage the boy! What possible reason could you have...?"

Harry felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The voices faded, becoming softer until he found himself stuck in a sort of nothingness, a void of black. Time seemed to stretch for days, years, but he couldn't really feel it, just knew that somewhere, life continued as normal, but he was no longer a part of it. He was reminded of something, from a dream perhaps... time split its husk. He began to lose a sense of himself, began to forget things. He forgot his name, where he was, what he was, and found he quite enjoyed it. He rested, his mind blank as he soaked in the void, content...

With a wrenching shock he slammed back into his body suddenly and painfully. His vision flooded with a violent clash of light and color as the world popped back into view. He lay on the cold stone floor of Snape's office. Snape himself knelt beside Harry, staring down at him with a look of concern on his pale, thin face. "Potter!" Snape's harsh voice sounded in his ears. "Are you in there?"

Harry blinked and tried to organize his thoughts. What did Snape mean, was he in there? In where? He couldn't remember what had happened, only that one minute he'd been having an Occlumency lesson and the next we was lying on the cold floor. "Er..." Harry said finally, too confused to answer properly, not really knowing what the proper answer would even be.

Snape stood up. "Yes, I can tell that's you. Never can answer a question without stumbling through it. Get up, boy. We're going to see the headmaster now."

Harry stood up slowly, surprised to find that his muscles ached in protest. "Is the lesson over already?" he asked, following Snape out of the office. Snape didn't bother to answer. "Sir?"

"Never mind that now, Potter, just hurry up," Snape replied. Harry was even more confused by the utter lack of emotion in the man's voice. Usually Snape only spoke to Harry to insult him, and his tone never failed to be sneering or scathing. Harry followed at Snape's heels, lost in thought. He felt as if he'd missed something very important, that time had somehow shot forward without him.

They arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office, slightly out of breath from having walked so far so quickly. "Acid Pop," Snape said, giving the password to the statue. It obligingly leapt aside to reveal a revolving spiral staircase. They stepped on and it carried them to the inner door of Dumbledore's office, upon which Snape knocked three times, hard.

After a few brief moments the door swung open and Professor Dumbledore stood before them, smiling expectantly. "Ah, Severus. I trust you have some good news to report to me?"

Harry and Snape walked through the door. Snape waited for Dumbledore to close it behind them before speaking. "Unfortunately not, Headmaster. There was an... incident."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said, seeming completely unconcerned. "Please sit down. I was just about to have some hot cocoa. Would either of you care for some? I find it cheers me during these cold months." He waved his wand, conjuring three steaming mugs of cocoa.

"Sir, something very alarming has just happened," Snape said, ignoring the headmaster's offer. Harry shrugged and gladly took the mug Dumbledore offered him. He felt despondent, knowing that Snape was about to tell Dumbledore that their lessons had to continue. He'd so hoped to get out of them at the end of the term...

"I see you will not be distracted, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Very well. What is it?"

"Potter was possessed during our session," Snape said bluntly.

"What!?" Harry shouted in surprise.

Dumbledore templed his fingers beneath his chin and stared hard at Snape from beneath his half moon spectacles. "Possessed, you say? By Voldemort?"

Snape shook his head. "Not by the Dark Lord. By Black."

"What?!" Harry yelped again, spilling hot cocoa down his front. "What do you mean, Sirius possessed me?!"

"You're sure about this, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes filled with worry.

"Yes, I'm positive. It was him," Snape said, the sneer back in his voice.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. After a few moments of silence, he sighed heavily and turned to Harry. "I'm sorry Harry, but I must ask you to return to Gryffindor tower. I need to speak with Professor Snape alone on this matter. You understand."

"Understand?" Harry said hotly, his face burning with anger. "Understand?! You're always keeping things from me! You did it last year, and look where it got me! Sirius is dead because no one saw fit to tell me the truth about myself." His voice shook with rage as he glared accusingly at the headmaster.

Snape glared at him with narrowed eyes, but Professor Dumbledore simply sighed again. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Harry. I accept my full part of the blame for Sirius. It was wrong of me to keep certain details from you. But I must ask you to trust me in this instance." His blue eyes pleaded with Harry, and Harry couldn't bear to look at Dumbledore any longer, for fear his anger would overwhelm him and he'd end up making things explode. Again.

Harry stood up quickly and tossed his mug into the fireplace, feeling a savage pleasure at the wince Dumbledore gave as the ceramic shattered against the stone. "Fine," Harry said, his voice dangerously quiet, "I'll go. But don't expect me to trust you, and don't ask me to again. It's an insult, Professor. You failed me once. I won't let it happen again."

With that Harry stalked from the office, slamming the door behind him with a resounding crash. He could almost taste his anger, sour and stale in his mouth, it was so great. And yet at the same time the image of Dumbledore's sad, faded blue eyes flashed in his mind, making his throat clench up with tears. If he was so angry, then why did he feel so much like crying?

**********

Harry spent the rest of the week walking about in a sort of daze, only coming back to himself during Quidditch practices and D.A. meetings. He had successfully avoided thinking about what had happened during the Occlumency lesson with Snape by not thinking about anything at all, and tended to get quite sharpish with anyone who forced him out of his self-induced walking coma. Unfortunately, Hermione seemed to have taken it on as her life's mission to solve the mystery of Harry's possession. She kept interrupting him at odd times with facts she'd read in the library about possession and the undead.

"I've read all about it, Harry," she said as they made their way to the Room of Requirement for their last D.A. meeting of the term. "It’s just not possible for Sirius to have been the one. He's dead."

"No, really?" Harry said. "I hadn't noticed. Thanks for pointing that out, Hermione."

"I don't mean to be insensitive, Harry. I'm trying to help!" she exclaimed.

Harry shrugged and walked past her into the Room of Requirement. He didn't feel like arguing with her. In fact, he didn't feel like doing much of anything, including running the D.A., but it was their last meeting, and they needed to get their potions tested. Harry busied himself with preparing samples of the potions in small phials, so they'd be ready when the rest of the D.A. arrived. Hermione, miffed at being ignored once again, buried her nose in An Historical Look at Reknowned and Reviled Vampires of Our Time. Harry smirked to himself--he knew she was just trying to find out more about Spike. Ron would be livid.

By eight o'clock the room had filled with students chatting about their plans for the holidays. Harry blew his whistle and put on a cheerful face. "All right then," he said. "It's the last meeting before holiday, so we won't start anything new. Hermione and I have been working on some potions we'd like to test—could we have a few volunteers?"

"I wouldn't drink a potion you made if my life depended on it," a cold voice drawled from the back of the room. Everyone turned to stare. Draco Malfoy leaned against the door jamb in a deceptively casual fashion, arms crossed over his chest, his patented smirk curling his lip.

"This is a private meeting, Malfoy," Harry said, trying his hardest not to lose his temper in front of everyone. "You're not welcome here."

"Oh, but I was invited," Malfoy said, standing up straight and taking a few steps into the room. "You Gryffindors are all so noble and brave... you wouldn't chuck out a helpless Slytherin, would you? And here, I'm trying so hard to repent," he added, pressing his hand to his heart dramatically. He fluttered his eyelashes.

Harry itched to slap the smug expression of Malfoy's face, but Ron responded first. "You're lying! Who would be stupid enough to invite you when we all agreed...?"

"I would," Ginny said calmly, going to stand in front of Malfoy. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ron, who stood gaping at her in shock. Malfoy, who seemed to be enjoying the whole spectacle, leered unpleasantly at Ron from behind Ginny.

"Ginny, don't be ridiculous," Ron said finally. "You didn't invite him!" In the meantime the rest of the students looked from Ron to Ginny to Malfoy with tense excitement. Harry was rooting for an open conflict. Maybe now he wouldn't have to go to the trouble of pointing out Ginny's betrayal to Ron and end up on the wrong side of his temper. Ginny could do it herself...

"I did," Ginny replied staunchly. "He's got just as much right to be here as anyone else. He needs to learn these things too! There's a war going on Ron, or haven't you noticed?"

"Yeah, and he's on the other side!" Ron said furiously. "You want to teach him a load of spells so he can use them against us?"

"Ginny, I can handle this," Malfoy said, moving to step around her.

Ginny blocked him again, shaking her head. "No, stay back." To Harry's surprise Malfoy shrugged and obeyed, leaning against the doorjamb again looking quite bored of the whole thing now. "Ron, he's with me. Isn't that good enough?"

"No, it bloody well isn't!" Ron yelled. Some of the other D.A. members nodded in agreement. "If you're with him, then maybe you can't be trusted either!"

"Fine!" Ginny yelled. "I knew you'd be like this! Always taking Harry's side, over your own sister even. We don't need you and your stupid club anyway! You think you're doing something fine and noble here, building up some kind of army... Dumbledore's Army, ha! This is nothing compared to... Whatever! We're going!"

She stormed out of the room, dragging Malfoy after her by the arm. She kicked the door shut so hard that a long crack split across the doorjamb. The group stared after her in shock, none so much as Ron, who looked as if he'd just been told Snape would be teaching all their lessons from then on.

"What was that all about?" Seamus asked.

"I knew she had a temper," said Michael Corner, "but honestly! Going 'round with Draco Malfoy... it's a bit much, isn't it?"

Hermione sidled up to Harry in all the babbling confusion. "We need to end this, quickly," she whispered to him. "Look at Ron. He's about to have a fit and go tearing off after them."

"Er, right," said Harry. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Maybe we'd better hold off on this until after holidays. See you all then. Er, happy Christmas?" he finished lamely. The students took the hint and began filing from the room, whispering and muttering amongst themselves. Ron collapsed on a poof and stared miserably in front of him, although Harry had the feeling he wasn't seeing much of anything at all. Harry and Hermione approached him cautiously, not sure how he would react to something like this. Even more than it had hurt and angered him, Harry knew that for Ron, seeing his sister not only being civil to Draco Malfoy, but actually defending him was the ultimate betrayal. Harry didn't like it, was confused and angered by it, and concerned for Ginny herself, who had changed radically in the past month. But for Ron it was something like treason.

"I can't believe it," Ron whispered. "Why would Ginny... she's got to be under some kind of curse!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry. "Er, actually, Ron," Harry began delicately, "that's exactly what we were thinking too."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked dully. His eyes narrowed suddenly as he looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. "Hang on a second... you knew! You knew she was going round with Malfoy and you didn't say anything to me? What sort of friends are you?" His voice had turned angry and bitter.

Harry sent Hermione a pleading look. She sighed. "The sort that care about you and didn't want you getting hurt until we knew the whole story," Hermione said, taking up Ron's hand in hers. She grasped it quite hard in her desire to convey her sincerity, making Ron wince. "Please Ron, you've got to believe us. We didn't know anything for sure..."

"What do you know?" Ron asked finally. He didn't look at either of them, but neither did he pull his hand from Hermione's fingers.

Harry sighed and told the story, becoming more frustrated all the while. Surely Ginny had to be under someone's control, to be acting like this, but they had no proof to back it up. It all came back to Halloween and the Forbidden Forest...

"...and then she told me to leave her alone from then on," Harry finished, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"That's it!" Ron said, standing from his poof as if he'd suddenly come to a decision. "I'm writing to Mum. If there's one person who can put a stop to Ginny hanging about Malfoy, it's her!"

Harry watched his friend stalk off with worry, forgetting for the first time in days about his own troubles. "We'd better go after him," Hermione said. "He's liable to search out Malfoy himself and then... well I'd actually like to see what would happen, mind you, but we can't have Ron getting expelled. Mrs. Weasley would never forgive us."

*********

Harry awoke early on Saturday morning and joined his friends for breakfast in the Great Hall. He, Ron and Hermione had all been sent letters earlier in the week informing them that they were to take the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross with the rest of the students, and someone would be there to pick them up from the station and take them to the safe house where they'd be spending the holiday.

Harry bolted his toast and began on his eggs while Hermione stared into her coffee cup, lost in thought. After a few minutes of silence, Hermione said suddenly, "I won't do it."

"Do what?" Harry asked. Ron was too busy staring daggers at his sister, who had opted to eat breakfast at the Slytherin table, to notice Hermione's strange mood. Harry couldn't imagine having to eat with Crabbe's face in front of you the whole time. The idea alone made him a bit queasy.

"Go to the safe house," she muttered. "Harry, you've got to help me. I can't leave my parents all alone. Even with the wards the Order set up for them, my parents will still be defenseless. So what if they’ll know when someone’s Apparated near the house? What will they do then—lock the door and hope the Death Eaters have forgotten the Alohamora Charm?"

Harry stared at Hermione in surprise, his eggs forgotten. He knew she had agreed a little too easily when Dumbledore pulled her aside the other day and informed her she'd have to go with them. Still, he hadn't expected a full-on revolt! "Er, of course I'll help you," he whispered back at her. "But how are you going to...?"

Hermione's eyes darted about before she answered. "I need your cloak, the password to Dumbledore's office, and a distraction."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked suspiciously, his attention snapping back to the Gryffindor table at last.

"I'm sneaking off to join the circus," Hermione said. "I've developed a sudden passion for clowns."

Harry bit back his laughter and explained to Ron, who stared at Hermione, impressed. "You're turning into a right little rebel, aren't you."

"Yes, danger is my middle name," Hermione said.

“I thought your middle name was Anne?” Ron said. “Ha! Your initials spell ‘hag’!”

"It’s Jane, actually,” Hermione said dryly. “Now, will you help me or not?"

Harry's eyes glinted with excitement. "I think I've got an idea..." He grinned. The Slytherins would never know what hit them.

Fifteen minutes later Harry came puffing back into the Great Hall and collapsed in his seat, grinning. "Well, I've gone and done it!" he said. "I reckon you'll have your distraction, Hermione. And then some."

"What did you do?" Ron asked curiously as Harry slipped his cloak from beneath his robes and handed it to Hermione across the table. She fingered it nervously before hefting her bag onto her shoulder in preparation to bolt when the moment was right.

"You'll see," Harry said. He couldn't help but grin. "The password's 'Acid Pop,'" he told Hermione.

"Should I go now?" Hermione asked, her eyes flitting to the head table, where Dumbledore was still eating breakfast.

"I'd wait a few minutes," Harry said. "You won't want to miss--"

Just then a series of loud shrieks sounded from the Slytherin table across the Hall. Harry stood to see what was going on. Two tables over, Crabbe had just projectile vomited all over Goyle. Goyle's nose started to bleed profusely, and on the other side of the table, Malfoy fell out of his chair in a dead faint. Slytherins up and down the long table were fainting, vomiting, bleeding... it was disgusting. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide as the teachers poured from the head table to assess the situation. "You didn't...!"

"You'd better get going," Harry told her. Shaking her head in disgust, she slipped out of the Great Hall unnoticed.

"What did you do, Harry?" Ron asked, standing on a chair to get a better look. The teachers couldn't figure out how to stop the chaos. Snape, looking livid with fury, marched out of the Great Hall toward the dungeons, undoubtedly fetching some kind of potion that would help.

"Slipped a Skiving Snackbox into the Slytherin's pumpkin juice supply," he whispered delightedly back to Ron. Dumbledore had managed to revive all the students who had fainted, although some of them also had bloody noses, and Malfoy was now yelling furiously at Goyle, who had gotten blood on his robes. Ginny, meanwhile, seemed to know exactly what was going on and was calmly handing out the remedies from her own Skiving Snackbox. She caught Harry's gaze briefly, and he thought he saw a tiny smile lurking on her lips, but she turned away quickly before he could be sure. Dumbledore was watching him too, his eyes crinkling a bit in amusement. He seemed to know Harry had caused the chaos, but didn't seem inclined to do anything about it.

Not that he could, Harry reminded himself. There was no way anyone could prove what he'd done, as he'd been wearing his Invisibility Cloak the entire time. He grinned as he watched Snape come storming back into the Great Hall carrying a case of potions, which he swiftly began handing out. One by one the Slytherins left the hall to clean up and change their robes. The excitement had mostly died down, although the hall was still buzzing with laughter and amusement.

Harry turned back to his eggs, although after seeing Crabbe vomit for ten minutes straight, he had lost his appetite completely. He just wanted to bask in this moment and forget all the bad things that had happened lately. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

"Potter, you disgusting freak!" Malfoy's voice sounded in his ear. Harry glanced up, trying to appear unconcerned. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the Slytherin. Malfoy's normally spotless robes were filthy with Goyle's blood, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, he had a bit of vomit in his silvery blond hair.

"You've got vomit on your cheek, did you know?" Harry asked innocently, trying to repress his mirth. Ron had no such qualms. He was shaking with laughter, along with most of the Gryffindors at the table.

Malfoy practically snarled. He didn't seem to know what to say. His pale cheeks flushed with anger and his fists clenched at his sides. He finally settled for turning his back on them and stalking away. Ron's eyes narrowed as they followed Malfoy--the Slytherin had headed directly for Ginny, who patted his arm soothingly and stared up at him with a revoltingly concerned expression on her face.

"Wish Malfoy'd gotten a Puking Pasty," Ron muttered, glaring at his plate.

"We'd better get out to the entrance hall," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "The carriages to Hogsmeade will be there soon."

They hurried to the dormitory to grab their things before heading to the front doors. Just as they were about to leave Dumbledore's voice called from behind them, "A word, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley!"

They turned with guilty expressions, wondering if they were about to get detention for the prank Harry had pulled. Dumbledore indicated they should follow him. Harry and Ron exchanged glances before Ron shrugged and followed the headmaster. Harry hurried to catch up. He didn't mind getting in trouble, as long as Hermione made it to her parents’ house safely.

They followed Dumbledore through the maze of corridors to his office, up the spiral staircase and through the door. Ginny waited in one of the cushy chairs in front of the desk, looking just as surprised to see them as they were to see her. Dumbledore smiled at them.

"I understand Miss Granger has left us a bit early," he said. Harry blinked but didn't say anything. Dumbledore always knew everything that went on in the castle. Harry was hardly surprised that he knew Hermione had sneaked off, especially since she'd probably used his fireplace to do it.

"Sir, it's just that, I mean..." Ron said. Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.

"It’s quite all right, Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger had a difficult decision to make, and we must all respect her desire to protect her parents. But you three... I cannot allow you the luxury of choices at the moment." He pulled out a broken pair of spectacles from his desk drawer and held them out to Ginny. She looked at them blankly.

"It's a Portkey," Dumbledore explained. "I'm afraid it's too dangerous for you to take the train. It's set to activate in a few minutes, so I suggest you grab on," he told Harry and Ron, ignoring their questioning looks.

Harry and Ron each touched a finger to the Portkey. "But where are we going, Professor?" Ron asked. "What about Mum and--"

Before Ron could finish his sentence the Portkey activated. Harry felt the familiar sensation of something hooking onto his navel and pulling. He felt Ginny and Ron banging into him as the world rushed by until they landed with a jarring crash onto what appeared to be someone's tea table.

Harry fell off and landed with a thud, wincing at the pain in his knee where he'd landed on a saucer.

"Oh dear Lord," someone said in exasperation. "I suppose I shouldn't have rearranged the parlor."

Harry stood up and looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The room was dim but cozy, with several couches and squashy arm chairs. A fire burned merrily in the brick fireplace. The room vaguely reminded him of the Gryffindor common room, only without all the red. The man who had spoken stood quickly and began clearing the broken tea things. He was an older man with slightly graying hair wearing a rather old fashioned looking tweed suit. A pair of spectacles perched on his nose.

"Here, let me," Ginny offered, taking the tea things from him and setting them back down on the table. She pointed her wand at them. "Reparo!"

The man started. "Ah yes, of course. Er, right. You're probably wondering who I am." He smiled at them a bit nervously. "Rupert Giles, but you can simply refer to me as Giles. This is my house," he said, offering his hand to Ginny. She shook it.

"I'm Ginny," she said with a smile, sounding more like Ginny than she had in weeks.

Harry and Ron introduced themselves. "So, er, where are we, exactly?" Harry asked finally. "And who are you?"

"Oh, right. Of course. How, uh, how silly of me not to say. We're in London, or very near there. I'm Buffy's Watcher. You'll know all about that," he said.

Ron and Harry exchanged surprised glances. "Sorry, no," Harry said.

Giles looked surprised. "Well I don't suppose they would've thought to explain. Would you like some tea?" he said. "I could make a fresh pot and explain things to you."

While Giles left the room to make tea, Harry took a seat and shifted restlessly on the couch. Ron stared daggers at Ginny while she walked around the room, examining knickknacks and framed photos with an air of utter unconcern. Harry had never felt quite so uncomfortable around the Weasleys in his life. He cleared his throat nervously and stared at the carpet.

"I've owled Mum about you," Ron said finally, breaking the tense silence.

"What did you say?" Ginny asked mildly. "That I'd finally gone and done something so terrible as make friends?"

"He's not your friend!" Ron replied hotly, but before they could get into the swing of an argument, the door opened and a familiar blond strutted into the room.

"Spike!" Harry exclaimed, happy for the interruption. "What are you doing here?"

Spike looked at him with mild surprise. "Oh bugger. I don't fancy spending my holiday with a load of tiny tots. One's enough, I'd say."

Harry was about to reply that they weren't "tiny tots," whatever that meant, but stopped himself. Ginny was acting very strangely. She had gone utterly still and was pointing her wand at Spike, her face white and her eyes hard. "You're a vampire!" she said. "Get out now, and maybe I won't turn you into a walking fireball!"

"Ginny it's okay!" Harry said while Ron Disarmed her with a quick "Expelliarmus!" "He's Buffy's friend."

Ginny glared at Spike, skepticism written all over her face. "Right. He's a vampire, but the good, cuddly kind. Like a Care Bear with fangs?"

"Er, right," said Harry, who didn't feel much like explaining anything to Ginny. Luckily he didn't have to, as Giles chose that moment to reappear with the tea.

"Ah, I see you've all met Spike, my lovely house guest." He set the tea down on the low table in front of the couch and took a seat next to Harry. "Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. I'm Buffy's Watcher. Well, ex-Watcher, actually, but all the same." He handed Harry, Ron, and Ginny cups of tea as they gathered around him to hear his explanation.

"So what is a Watcher, exactly?" Ron asked, sending Harry a significant look.

"Old man in tweed?" Spike said, slouching in an armchair by the fire. "Useless git who Watches the Slayer die, twice?"

Giles ignored him. "When a new Slayer is called," he explained, "it is a Watcher's duty to inform her of her destiny and oversee her training, and, uh, provide guidance."

Spike snorted. "Right, as if Buffy ever went to you for instructions. Slay first, ask questions later, that's her motto."

"Er, how do you get to be a Watcher?" Harry asked, hoping for some information about the Council.

"The Watcher's Council recruits only the best and brightest from Cambridge and Oxford," he said. "Although technically there is only one active Watcher at a time, the Council has it's hand in several other pots as well. Demonic research, areas of mystical convergence, that sort of thing. Occasionally Watchers are sent to train potentials, girls who may or may not be called, depending on the situation."

"So you're Muggles then, Watchers?" Harry asked.

"Pardon me?" Giles said, sounding as if he wasn't quite sure whether he should be offended or not.

"Non-magic people," Ron explained.

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed them clean on the hem of his shirt. "Well I don't like to brag, of course, but I've done my fair share of channeling mystical energies," he said. "But I'm not a wizard, no, if that's what you mean."

Just then the door burst open and a girl rushed in, stopping dead when she saw them. "Oh, I heard voices and I thought Buffy was back," she explained. She tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and looked them up and down. "Why're you wearing a dress?" she asked Harry bluntly.

"Dawn!" Giles admonished. "Don't be rude. These are the uh, people I was telling about. They'll be staying with us for a few weeks. For protection, of course."

"Huh. I thought they'd be more like Gandalf and less like Frankenfurter." Harry stared at her in confusion. She was obviously a Muggle, dressed in faded jeans and a jumper. She stared in confusion at their wands, which were resting on the coffee table. "And what's with the sticks?"

"Those are our wands," Ginny snapped, "and you're being awfully rude. "

"Oooh, are you wizards?" she replied, completely ignoring Ginny's comment. "Do something magic! Turn Spike into a toad!"

"Dawn, that's enough!" Giles ordered. "This is Harry, Ron, and Ginny. I'm counting on you to show them around and make them comfortable while they're here."

"Yes, Giles," she said dully, taking a seat on the other side of Harry. "But it wouldn't hurt for them to show me just a little, eensy weensy bit of magic, would it?" she cajoled.

Giles began clearing up the tea things and politely "suggested" that Dawn show them the rest of the house and their bedrooms. Harry thought Dawn seemed a bit annoying, but Ron didn't seem to agree because he started asking her questions the second they left the parlor.

"So how do you know Buffy?" Ron asked as they crossed the entryway of the house and began climbing the stairs.

"She's my sister," Dawn said proudly. "Best sister ever."

"And you're American. What's that like?"

Dawn gave him a look that clearly said she thought he was a bit nutters for asking. "It's sort of like being British, only on the other side of the ocean. No, seriously. What's with the dresses? Are you two, you know, batting for the other team?"

"What, like the Falmouth Falcons?" Ron asked, citing the rival to his own Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons.

"She's asking if you're gay, Ron," Ginny said a little snidely, making Harry wonder if Draco Malfoy could be catching, like the flu, or more appropriately, ebola. "Clueless, much?"

Ron flushed an even brighter shade of red, so that he now strongly resembled an overly ripe pumpkin. "We're wizards!" he stuttered. "These are robes, not dresses! We're not poofs."

"Uh huh. Whatever." She stopped at the landing to the second floor. A long corridor with two doors on either side ran the length of the house. She pushed open the first door on the left. "This is your room," she told Harry and Ron. "Your stuff is already in there, if you want to change into something less... robey."

While Dawn showed Ginny to the room the two of them would be sharing, Harry and Ron shut themselves in their room. It was a fairly spartan affair, with two single beds, a night stand with a single lamp, and a large wardrobe. Ron experimented with the lamp while Harry rushed over to Hedwig, who hooted dolefully from her cage at her first sight of him.

"Excellent, they've brought Hedwig," Ron said, amusing himself by flipping the light off and on. "We can write Hermione and tell her what Giles said about Watchers. Is this that ecclectricity thing, Harry? It's quite strange, isn't it? Why not just use candles or gas lamps?" He stared at the lamp, transfixed.

"Er, right," Harry said, rifling through his bag for a quill and parchment. He didn't feel like getting into a long discussion about the purpose and mechanics of electricity. After jotting off a note to Hermione, they headed back downstairs. Loud noises seemed to be coming from the direction of the kitchen, so Harry and Ron were heading that way when a drawling voice from the parlor stopped them.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Spike said from his chair by the fire. He seemed to be honing his brooding skills, staring morosely into the flames. "You don't want to get between Dawn and Buffy. It’s not a pretty sight, that."

"Oh," Harry said, taking his seat on the couch again, "is Dawn a Slayer too?"

"Don't be an idiot. Dawn can't be a Slayer. She's not even a real girl," Spike said in a voice that made it clear they should've known that.

Ron paled. "Oh no. What is she? Another vampire? Some kind of, of horrible demon that no weapon forged can kill?"

"Been reading up on Big Blue, have you," Spike said with a touch of pride. "That was all my idea, you know. And a much better one than Angel's bloody 'have Acathala suck the world into hell' plan, if I do say so myself." Harry and Ron stared at him blankly. "Maybe we'll save that story for another day, shall we? The little bit... she's the Key."

"The Key?" Ron asked. "You mean the mystical energy force that opens the gates between dimensions?"

Harry gaped at him in astonishment. "What?" Ron said defensively. "Hermione's the only one who can know things?"

The three of them spent an uncomfortable fifteen minutes attempting to chat while the shouting match continued in the kitchen. At long last Willow popped her head into the parlor and announced lunch. "Did anyone bother to warm up a pint of blood for me?" Harry heard Spike ask as they followed Willow into the kitchen.

Lunch was a casual affair with Buffy and Dawn seated on the countertop eating their sandwiches, having apparently made up, Giles looking on in disapproval and making a funny clucking sound in the back of his throat, and Ginny chatting a mile a minute to Willow, asking about some soul restoration spell she'd performed once. Spike proceeded to complain to Harry and Ron about the lack of quality blood available in the city. All in all, Harry was happy when he'd bolted his sandwich and escaped to the bedroom he and Ron were sharing.

The next few days were much the same. Ron glared at Ginny for most of it, while Ginny proceeded to ignore both Harry and Ron with even more success than she had at school. Harry noticed her reading letters over the breakfast table and wondered if they were from Malfoy, thinking that unfortunately, they probably were.

The first time Buffy dragged them downstairs to watch a film in the den, Ron had stared in fascination at the screen and kept poking Harry and asking him, "Now are they using magic?" Buffy and Willow tended to like strange Indian films with lots of singing and incomprehensible plot lines. These Spike flatly refused to watch. He insisted on forcing them to watch old episodes of an American television program called "Dawson's Creek."

Ron had gotten very into the program and would watch the old episodes they played on television every afternoon with the vampire. "Just kiss her already!" Ron yelled at the television on one such day as Harry was passing by the parlor, a letter clutched in his hand.

"My theory is," Spike told Ron, "Dawson's secretly a great big ponce. Have to be, to not want a piece of tail like Joey."

"Funny," Buffy said, "and here I thought you went for the psychotic, ‘I'm so gothic and evil, feed me a child’ drama queens."

"Drusilla was not psychotic!" Spike said heatedly. "She was gifted."

"If by ‘gifted’ you mean completely evil and really in need of a personality makeover, then yeah..."

Ron noticed Harry waiting in the doorway and left Buffy and Spike to their bickering. "What's up, mate?" he asked.

"I've had a letter from Hermione," Harry explained, handing the parchment over to Ron.

Dear Harry and Ron-
I've made it home safely, thanks for asking. And Harry, I can't believe that stunt you pulled in the Great Hall! When I asked for a distraction, I never meant do something crazy and ridiculous that could get you expelled!

Mum and Dad are happy to have me home, but I'm really nervous about the thing that's supposed to happen. If you two find out anything about it, you've got to let me know straight away. With that in mind, I've got something really important to tell you. Can't say anything in a letter, but I've finally figured something out and we need to talk. Contact me the Muggle way and we'll arrange something. Be careful, especially around Ginny.

Love from,
Hermione

Underneath that Hermione had written a series of numbers. Ron stared at the parchment in confusion. "What does she mean, the Muggle way? By post?"

"The telephone. There's one in the kitchen. Only, what do you think she means, about Ginny?" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing nervously at Buffy and Spike in the parlor, who were glaring at each other. "I mean, I know she's gone a bit mental, hanging about with Draco Malfoy and shouting at everyone, but you don't think she's... dangerous?"

Ron shrugged, his eyes hard, and Harry appreciated for the first time that Ginny was Ron's sister, and this must all be very hard on him. "After Percy last year, I can't say I'm terribly surprised. The whole sibling betrayal thing really looses its shock value after the first time."

A few minutes later they hung up the phone, having arranged to meet Hermione later that night at some sort of Muggle pub where they wouldn't be recognized or overheard. "But how are we going to get there?" Ron asked. "And how are we going to convince them to let us out?"

"Let you out where?" Dawn asked suspiciously from the doorway of the kitchen.

Ron went red at the sight of her. "None of your business...?" he said feebly.

"Look, if you guys are escaping, I want in. No way am I gonna be left behind. I know she's your teacher and stuff, but Buffy likes to party. She does. She's like a big party animal. But small, and human. She'll want to get out of the stuffy Englishman's house just as much as we do."

And so it was that somehow, amazingly, Harry found himself squeezed into the back seat of Giles's tiny, rusting car with Ron, Ginny, and Dawn while Buffy and Willow sat up front, swapping stories about their high school days and something called the Bronze. Harry clutched at the door handle and willed himself not to be sick as Buffy drove like a madwoman through London traffic. She was a terrible driver, and hadn't yet mastered the concept of traffic lights. By the time they arrived at their destination, Harry felt so ill he threw himself out of the car, gasping for air.

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked, staring at Harry with worried eyes as his friend slumped against the car, breathing hard.

"Fine," Harry gasped, standing up straight. "Let's go. Hermione's probably already here, waiting for us."

They followed the girls down the street toward the pub. Ginny gazed around, seemingly amazed by Muggle London, which she'd never really seen before. Ginny and Dawn had gotten dressed up to go out, Dawn having loaned Ginny some clothes that made Ron flush furiously and mutter under his breath something about the indecency of Muggle dress. Harry thought it was a bit much, himself. While Buffy and Willow hadn't bothered, wearing much the same clothes they usually did to class, Ginny and Dawn had gone all out, to the point that Ginny had glitter on her cheeks and eyelids, and Dawn had a feather boa around her shoulders.

"Really," Harry muttered to Ron as they approached the pub, "it's as if they think this is some sort of rave."

"What's a rave?" Ron wanted to know, but before Harry could answer they found themselves at their destination. Harry stared at the sign with a look of consternation. It was the place, all right, but Hermione had told them it was a pub, and this place looked more than anything like...

"A dance club." Ron glared mutinously at the front door, from which a pounding techo beat poured out onto the street. "How could she?"

Harry shrugged and followed the girls into the club. Hermione sat at a high table near the entrance, looking very relieved when she saw them. She waved them over and they approached her table, leaving the girls to go their own way. Harry and Ron took the seats across from her, both giving her hard stares.

"I didn't know!" she pleaded, looking from one to the other. "Mum and Dad just said it was a place their teenage patients talked about!"

Harry sighed and glanced around him. The club looked strangely familiar to him, although he couldn't quite place where he might have seen it before. There was a long bar to the right of the dance floor, lit up with green and yellow neon lights. The dance floor itself was filled with people, mostly teenagers from the looks of it, light from the huge mirror ball hanging above reflecting off the dancers. Colored spotlights swirled around, the only real light in the darkened club. Music pounded loudly around them, so that they had to shout to be heard.

"Did you make it out all right?" Hermione yelled above the noise.

"Yeah, but they all came with us," Ron explained, staring at the scene around him. He seemed fascinated by the lights particularly. "This place is really quite strange."

"Right well, maybe we should go out back. There's an alley back there we can chat in."

The three of them threaded their way through the crowd of dancers. Harry saw Buffy and Willow at the bar, sipping from big martini glasses with small umbrellas in them. Ginny and Dawn seemed to be having the time of their lives, dancing and giggling beneath the flashing mirror ball. For a moment Harry felt a surge of jealousy at the sight of them--to be so carefree, to go to a club and actually have fun, rather than discuss matters of life and death--but it faded as soon as it came. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the cold night air. The club was a bit stifling, in his opinion.

"So what did you want to tell us, then?" Ron asked as they shut the door behind them.

"Not here," Hermione said, glancing around. There was a couple just to the right of them, although Harry thought they looked too busy to notice the three of them. "Let's go behind that waste bin there."

Harry sat down on a crate behind the bin and gazed expectantly at Hermione. She cleared her throat nervously. "I'm not sure how to say this," she began, sending a pleading look toward Ron. "I know Ginny's your sister, Ron, but you've got to--"

Just then a loud crash from the alley made them all jump in surprise. Harry stood quickly and moved to look around the bin to see what all the commotion was about. Ron and Hermione peeked out beside him, and what they saw made them all stare in astonishment.

Three large, burly men were closing in on the couple they'd seen earlier, growling threateningly. The largest walked beneath a street lamp and Harry saw with a start of horror that he wasn't a man at all, but a vampire.

"We've got to do something!" Harry whispered urgently to his friends. "They'll be killed!"

Hermione pulled out her wand from her pocket. "Stupefy!" she muttered, aiming a spell at one of the vampires. But the spell simply bounced off him--apparently it took more than that to Stun a vampire.

Harry sent Hermione a look of alarm. "We can't risk magic!" he whispered furiously. "Those are Muggles! You'll have the Ministry sending you owls next! It'll have to be hand to hand combat--"

Harry thought wildly that this would surely be the death of him, but before he could react, the back door slammed open with a bang and two people came running out into the night.

"Over here, fang head!" a girl yelled, throwing a smaller dustbin at one of the vampires. The vampire turned with a growl and attacked, moving away from the couple. The other person had engaged the second vampire, but the third was still heading inexorably toward the Muggles. Harry ran out to meet it, followed quickly by Ron and Hermione. They attacked the vampire as best they could while the Muggles ran down the alley and out of sight. Harry aimed a kick at its head and felt a brief spurt of relief when his foot connected, quickly followed by the realization that he didn't have a weapon to kill it with, not even a stake. While Ron jumped on its back and began choking it, Hermione pulled out her wand, her face frightened but determined.

"Hermione!" Harry warned, but she didn't do magic. While Ron held the vampire relatively still, Hermione jumped forward and plunged the tip of her wand into his chest. He promptly burst into dust, sending Ron sprawling into the trash cans behind him.

Harry turned to see what was going on with the other vampires. The girl had dusted hers and was helping the other figure, who seemed quite out of his league and was quickly being driven into the opposite wall by the vampire. The girl picked up a rock and threw it at the vampire's head, making him turn with a snarl in her direction.

"It's me you want," she yelled, throwing another rock.

"Stupid girl!" the vampire roared, rushing at her. She dodged him and watched as he ran straight into the wall. She laughed but fell silent quickly as the vampire got to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it. "You'll pay for that one!" he declared, attacking her in earnest.

They exchanged a rapid fire series of blows. The girl moved as quickly as Buffy--and Harry was sure she wasn't Buffy, she was too tall--but without Buffy's skill and seeming effortlessness. The vampire kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her flying into the crate Harry had been sitting on moments before. The crate burst into pieces and she picked one up, holding it so that the vampire could see its jagged, pointed end. "Let's finish this," she said.

"Who are you?" the vampire asked cagily, approaching the girl more slowly this time.

She stepped beneath the streetlight, and Harry heard Hermione's gasp beside him as he felt his own body go suddenly cold with dread--under the glow of the lamp he could see Ginny's bright head quite clearly. "I'm the girl with the sharp bit of wood," she pointed out to the vampire. She punched him in the throat hard, making him gasp, and quickly plunged the bit of wood into his chest. "And you're dust," she added with a certain amount of satisfaction as the vampire exploded with an echoing cry.

Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him behind the dustbins, where Ron was sprawled, his face crumpled in shock. She put her finger to her lips, indicating they should be quiet, and cocked her head toward the alley, where Ginny was speaking. Harry peeked between the dustbins.

"What happened to the third one?" Ginny asked, wiping her hands off on her pants with a grimace.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Harry head Draco Malfoy's familiar, drawling voice tell her. "Maybe he ran when he saw us?" Malfoy reached over and removed a splinter of wood from Ginny's bright hair. "Charming, really. It's a new look for you, but I quite like it."

"Honestly!" Ginny said, but she was smiling. It made Harry sick to see her smiling at him like that. "Do you think they were from the Order?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head. "They seemed pretty run of the mill to me. Not up to the usual standard."

Ginny grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the door. "Let's get back inside before we're missed," she said. "Besides, I want to dance! What's the point in being at dance club if there isn't any dancing?"

But before she could drag him all the way through the door, Malfoy bent down and gave her a brief but firm kiss.

Harry stood and helped Ron, who was shaking, to his feet, feeling a swoop of hot, sick anger in his stomach. "Did that just happen?" Ron gibbered. "I must be hallucinating. I mean, I knew she'd gone mad, but this is..."

Hermione sighed. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I've been doing a bit of reading on the side--"

"Shocker, that," muttered Ron.

"--and I think Ginny is definitely under the influence of something." She took a deep breath, and Harry could tell she really didn't want to tell them what she'd found. "I think... I think it’s a Love Potion."

Ron's face drained of all color and he leaned heavily against the wall. Harry felt something strange in his stomach, a sort of lightening and calming, like relief. Why would he be relieved that Ginny had been poisoned with a Love Potion? Pushing the thought aside, Harry voiced what they were all wondering.

"But why? It doesn't make any sense. Unless Malfoy is a lot more twisted than I gave him credit for."

Ron laughed bitterly. "We know Malfoy is twisted, not to mention just right out evil. He probably did it just to mess with us."

But Hermione was shaking her head. "That's just it. I don't think he knows. Harry, when you saw them talking that night on the stair... how did Malfoy act?"

"He seemed confused," Harry admitted. "Wanted to know why Ginny was doing 'this,' whatever that meant. You don't think--"

"That's exactly what I think," Hermione cut him off, her voice low and trembling. "Ginny's strange behavior, her talking to Malfoy, her refusing to talk to us... it all leads back to Halloween. And she was only with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange for a few minutes. I've been researching, and it can take hours to place a really strong, long-lasting Imperius Curse on someone. But a potion..."

"It would only take a minute," Ron said in a horrified whisper. "And that would explain how she got away so quickly, and without any damage."

"They let her go," Harry said. "They fed her the potion and let her go, knowing that once she fell for Malfoy, he'd bring her over to them..."

"The only question is why," Hermione said, chewing her bottom lip. "Why would the Death Eaters want Ginny on their side? Why would they risk capture to get to her?"

Ron stood up straight suddenly, a fleeting look of hope in his eyes. "But this is good, right? Well not good, but if it's a potion, there must be some sort of counter to it!"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Ron, there's a reason Love Potions are banned. That's just the thing--there isn't any counter to it. Not unless the object one fixates on wants to counter it, that is."

The hope died in Ron's eyes. "Fat chance of that happening. He loves this! You saw him..." He waved his hand toward the door through which Ginny and Malfoy had disappeared, "...he actually likes this. Didn't seem uncomfortable when he was putting his hands all over my sister, did he?" Ron's voice was bitter with anger and resentment.

Hermione gazed from Ron to Harry and back again, a look of hopeless despair flitting across her features. "It's quite useless, isn't it?" she asked, hanging her head. "We'll never figure it out, not without really knowing what they did to her. I think the Love Potion is most likely, but it could've been a hundred other things, and with her refusing to talk to us..."

Harry patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, catching Ron's eye with a helpless look. Ron shrugged, looking just as upset as Hermione was. Harry felt a rush of anger at Ginny, for causing such pain and confusion in all of them. Why did she have to get caught by Malfoy and Lestrange that night? What had caused her to change so suddenly, to push them away and run to Malfoy? Harry remembered their fight that night, the angry words she had yelled at him, and couldn't help but come back to her idea that he and Tom Riddle were alike... what exactly was her connection to Voldemort? Was Harry right in thinking that somehow, Riddle had transferred some of his soul into her? And if he was right... what did that mean?

Standing up straight, Harry felt his resolve harden. "Come on then," he said, heading for the door to the club. "There's no point in worrying about it now. What will come, will come. We've just got to be ready for it when it does. But for now, let's just go back in before the others start to miss us and come looking for us. And Hermione... don't bother being so upset over Ginny. Let’s just... try to put it out of our minds for a little while. Have some fun for once!"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said with a teary smile, brushing past him into the darkness of the club. Harry and Ron followed after her, only to be dragged immediately to the dance floor by Buffy and Dawn. Harry stood under the colored, flashing lights with Buffy, not knowing what to do with himself as she began dancing quite sexily in front of him.

"Er, have you been drinking?" he asked nervously. He didn't think he had ever been made quite so uncomfortable by a teacher, not even Snape, who often singled him out for humiliation during lessons.

"Maybe," Buffy admitted, throwing her arms around his neck. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

To distract himself from Buffy, who was his professor, he reminded himself firmly, Harry looked around at the other couples on the dance floor. The music had toned down a bit from the thumping techno to a slower song with actual words. Harry's eyes flitted across the faces until they landed on Ginny's. Her pale face was upturned to gaze at her partner who, Harry saw with a sickening lurch in his stomach, was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked more relaxed and pleasant than Harry had ever seen him before, his gray eyes shining as he stared at Ginny. Harry had never seen the other boy in Muggle clothes before--it looked quite strange, he thought, to see Malfoy among Muggles when he spent most of his time talking about how inferior they were.

Harry tried to concentrate on the music--anything to keep him from thinking about Malfoy and Ginny--although he couldn't seem to look away from them. The lyrics floated through the air, it seemed, light and strangely sad...

"...it's a narrow margin, just room enough for regret...the inch and half between, 'hey how ya been,' and 'can I kiss you yet?' So we talk like nervous neighbors, over a tall fence. True love, but for the lack of providence..."

Harry felt a hot, lurching feeling in his stomach as he watched Malfoy and Ginny. Somehow he knew what was coming, knew it with a certainty that frightened him, as if he'd seen it all before. Malfoy's pale head bent towards hers, her eyes fluttered shut, and then they were kissing, their fingers thrust in each other's hair, and he couldn't look away, although he really, really wanted to...

And then it hit him. He had seen all this before, in a dream! This club, the lights, Ginny and Malfoy... the dreams came rushing back to him in a whirl of images. Sirius, telling him he had to know what to see, Malfoy and Ginny dancing, Malfoy kissing Ginny, Harry kissing Ginny, and then, horribly, Malfoy's demonic, vampire face as he sucked the life out of a helpless, trusting Ginny...

"You're kinda cute when I'm drunk," Buffy's breathless voice whispered in his ear, wrenching him back to himself. He pulled away from her to stare down into her face in confusion.

"What?" he stuttered. "Maybe I should do a, er, Sobering Charm on you? I'm sure Hermione knows one..."

She giggled and pulled him closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "You wizards are no fun," she murmured. "What's the point in being drunk if you can't be drunk?"

*******