FicWad

Chapter One
Life in Sunnyhell.



Disclaimers, etc see part one.

Authors' Notes: Still working on everything. But that includes real life (exams, exams, killer rabbits, enchanters named Tim, the usual.)



Set almost a year after the Prologue.

Harry is going into Seventh Year. The Hellmouth was closed a little over two years ago.



Chapter One:



Harry paused as they reached the crowds outside Flourish and Blotts. They were a crowd in themselves; him, four of the Weasleys, the Grangers and several Aurors there for Harry's protection. Including Tonks, who had become a large burley man for the day, although Harry didn't want to think about what that involved. She looked like one of the characters from Dudley's comic books. Although he was sure she couldn't also make metal claws shoot out of her hands. Remus didn't seem to be too perturbed. In fact he was chatting quite amiably with the new man, perhaps it was a shape shifter thing, Harry thought, but quickly repressed that line of inquiry.

There were posters and ropes, as there had been when Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books. The largest poster was hung up above the door, showing a smiling witch in green robes. Hermione clutched Harry's arm when she saw.

"I didn't know she was going to be here today," she said breathlessly. "I might actually get to meet her."

"Who is she?" Ron asked.

"Really Ron. Harry has an excuse; he's been in the Muggle world all summer. There have been reviews of her book almost every week. The Sunday Prophet ran a spread on her just last week."

Ron shrugged. "You know I only check the Prophet for the Cannon's score, and to see if a freak bludger accident has killed Krum."

"You asked for his autograph!" Hermione snapped. "You keep it in the shoebox under your bed with your teddy bear!"

Ron turned beet red, it clashed rather horribly with his hair. "That's private," he hissed.

Hem, hem, Harry said. His friends turned sharply. Even an entire year without Umbridge hadn't lessened the automatic reflex.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But you could at least tell me who she is."

Hermione coloured slightly.

"She's written a book," she said. "Her name's Buffy Summers. And the book is a semibiographical story about her life in Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale?" Ron echoed. Harry thought the name sounded familiar.

"The Hellmouth? La Bocca del Inferno? It collapsed two years ago last May. You must remember: it's only the biggest supernatural event in the last thousand years."

"I read about that," Harry said, slowly.

"Of course, it's not entirely true. Truer than the Muggles think, but she puts herself forward as the Vampire Slayer, and there's only been one of them for at least four thousand years, and Miss Summers get very upset if anyone suggests she's older than 25."

Harry looked at the milling people and the flustered employees. It was very much like second year, except that there were more Wizards in the crowd, and Miss Summers didn't seem to be so enamoured of the spotlight.

"Are they really all here to see her?" he asked.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"We should get in line," she said. "It'll only get longer at lunch time. Logan," she called at Tonks, "we can line up right?"

The tall, dark haired man nodded solemnly. Remus punched 'him' lightly on the arm. They each took a copy of the book as they took a place in the queue. Ron was surprised to see Hermione pick one up too.

"I thought you said it wasn't true."

"I said she couldn't possible be the Slayer. But she can write, and the demon descriptions are very good, and don't rely on obtuse terminology. Not many people who have seen a She-Mantis, and believe that they saw it, are able to give you a reasonable description."

Ron promptly shut up. The queue moved quite slowly, snaking through the store. Harry kept half an ear on Hermione and Ron's discussion, which seemed to consist of Hermione complaining that Ron hadn't completed the study questions she had sent him and Ron responding in grunts as he tried to catch a better look at the blonde at the front of the queue.

They collected their schoolbooks as they passed them in the queue; Advanced Book of Spells, volume one; Potions Theory and its Practical Applications; Further Changes in Transfiguration; Defence Against Darkness; and Helios Herbs. One of the shopkeepers had just been asked for a copy of the Monster Book of Monsters. Harry was very glad for unbreakable charm on the belt around his copy.

On the trek to get their copies of their Herbology books, Harry spied Snape, hunting through the shelves at the back of the section. Quickly hushing Hermione and Ron, he drew his cloak closer to avoid detection and therefore any unnecessary contact with the Potions master. It had the added advantage of obscuring Harry from the Press, particularly Rita Skeeter's less attractive replacements.

As the people in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione left with their signed books, Harry came face to face with the smiling young woman from the inside dust jacket of the book itself.

"Hi, Harry," she said. "I've heard about you."

Harry blushed.

"Don't worry. The police and the press give up persecuting you after a while. You just have to save their lives a few times and they'll leave you alone."

"I don't think so," Harry said, eyeing the reporters warily.

Buffy chuckled. But then one of the photographers spied Harry's scar.

"That's Harry Potter!" he cried. "Harry, Harry, can we get a photo of you with the Slayer?"

Buffy scowled at the man. Harry glanced at him and thought he should get a voodoo doll; he was sure it was the same reporter as second year - and hoped that this didn't mean that he would have to fight a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets again. Buffy caught Harry's eye and winked before changing tactics. Harry watched in amazement as Buffy turned and smiled sweetly at the photographer, her entire demeanour changing from one of brisk competence to a combination of Californian cheerleader and a seductress. Harry idly wondered if she had any Veela blood as the poor man blushed, preened and stammered in turn. Buffy bent down slightly to whisper something in his ear (the photographer was quite a bit shorter than the high-heeled Buffy). The way in which the man turned and left, whistling a jaunty little tune, seeming to have forgotten all about Harry and the big photo opportunity.

Harry turned away from the door to look quizzically at Buffy, who had returned to her former place, shrugging off the beguiling persona. Buffy smiled at him.

"Compliment the most pronounced feature a person," Buffy stated, "I am afraid I can't recommend that method for you for male reporters, unless they're gay, but if you do it successfully I am pretty sure your media troubles are over. I really wish someone had taught me how to pull it off when I was your age; then I might not have been wanted in relation to murder. But we all live and learn."

"Pity it won't work on You-Know-Who," Harry grumbled

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "He's your Big Bad right? He's the one who has a whole Evil World Domination trip going on? At least you don't have to deal with an arch enemy suffering from rampant apocaliamania."

Harry rubbed at his forehead. "I don't mean to sound utterly stupid but could you please explain that last phrase, I don't believe I have ever heard it before in my life."

Buffy laughed softly. "That's probably because I made it up. It means obsessed with bringing about apocalypses, or whatever the plural is. Unfortunately I have had to deal with a few of those in my time. Anyway, I hear you're meant to be the big saviour one of these days. Marching off to defeat Moldywarts in a blaze of glory. Making the wizarding world safe for decent Wizards and witches once more." Buffy paused, peering intently at Harry. "How's that working for you?"

Harry groaned. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that it actually has to happen, or all the expectation and hype. I hadn't thought it could get worse after the whole 'Boy-who-Lived' thing, but being the 'Boy-who-Lived-and-has-to-Save-us-Again' is even worse."

Buffy smiled warmly at him. "Don't let it get you down, just concentrate on getting through one day at a time, and making sure you're as prepared as you can possibly be, and life will be a little easier."

"I would advise you not to waste your time giving Mr. Potter the benefit of your dubious wisdom," Snape said from behind Harry, appearing from behind a shelf of books. "Mr. Potter has a distance aversion to study, and has only survived his education thus far through sheer dumb luck. I am eagerly anticipating his imminent fall from grace; it even makes-up somewhat for having to put up with his presence in my class this year."

Harry turned pale. It was bad enough having to put up with Snape through the school year, but having him show up and insult him in a very public place was worse. Harry was only glad for the fact that Buffy had already dispatched with the reporter.

"I don't think you really have a part in this conversation, Professor Snape," Buffy replied coldly. "How many apocaliamaniacs or Dark Wizards have you battled in last few years? Or do you prefer to watch the teenagers do all the sweaty work instead? Because, if that's the case, can I just say 'ick.'"

Snape blinked. Buffy's retort had been delivered in a quick, bright voice. Harry didn't think anyone had ever left Snape retort-less. He decided to concentrate on that good thought rather than the nauseating images that the speech had left him with. Snape seemed to have the same reaction; he glared at Buffy and turned in an abrupt swirl of dark robes.

"I will see you class, Potter," Snape sneered. "I look forward to it."

He stalked away, a path rapidly forming through the crowds around the sweep of his cloak.

Harry turned back to Buffy in awe.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" he asked, breathlessly. "Reducing Snape to silence seems a much more useful skill than Transfiguration."

Buffy smiled. "I'm not really sure it's something you can teach. Along with shopping, it really the only inherent skill I have. My sister, on the other hand, can turn any word into a seven-syllable whine. There's still quite a line behind you, but why don't you come round the back and find me afterwards. We can chat some more."

Harry nodded and smiled in agreement. Buffy replaced her expression with the generally welcoming smile that worked for everyone and turned to Harry's friends.

Hermione was staring at Buffy with a mixture of admiration and suspicion. Ron however, was about one step away from drooling and ignoring the Hermione's absentminded jabs in his ribs. Buffy grinned at their familiar behaviour; so much like Xander and Willow.

The two men standing behind them seemed similarly amused. The larger one looked suspiciously like an X-man, and Buffy knew enough about the Wizarding world to suspect that it was a disguise.

"You're looking good today, Logan," she said. "I assume you're usually female?"

'Logan' blushed. Buffy grinned.

"Guys just wouldn't get it," she said. "What name do you want in the book?"

"Logan will do fine," Tonks said. "I had better find the kids. They've been on their won for more than sixty seconds. Who knows what could have happened?"

Tonks took her book with a flirtatious grin at Buffy. Buffy smiled back before turning to Lupin and offering him her hand. He shook it gently. Buffy cocked her head slightly.

"How long since it happened?" she asked.

Lupin stepped back half a step, both suspicious and curious, looking at her as if she were a particularly dangerous, but fascinating creature. Like one of Hagrid's for instance.

When he didn't say anything, Buffy chuckled lightly.

"Is it a werewolf thing, or are you channelling Oz? No, wait, he was like that before he got bit."

Lupin relaxed slightly, she was showing no overt sings of hostility. But she was also talking the way many people did when they had no idea what to do.

"Was it an actual furry wolf," she continued, "or another teething cousin?"

"As intriguing as I may find the story behind the latter part of that query, I must admit that it was a 'furry' wolf."

"Ouch!" Buffy exclaimed, wincing in sympathy. "Oz didn't ever scar."

Lupin didn't have anything to add to that comment, so simply handed his book over to be signed. Buffy smiled sweetly at him, and the grin deepened only slightly when he told her his name.

Before she handed the book back she took a business card out of a pocket in her robes.

"I know werewolves often get a rough deal in this world. But if you've got the skills, these people will probably have something to do.

Lupin glanced at the card. "Watchers' Council" was printed heavily across the middle of the card, and the top corners contained icons; the left a Christian Cross with a pointy end and the right a Wicca pentagram. Neither symbol gave him particular comfort, but the name rang a bell with him.

He recognised it in a flash; the Watchers' Council was a group of Muggle men and women who trained and protected the Slayer line. But Hermione had been perfectly reasonable in saying the Slayer couldn't exist. Most Wizards believed that the Watchers' Council was pretty much a group of squibs who liked to have some form of power in at least the Muggle world.

Lupin slipped the card carefully into his wallet. Buffy handed his now-signed book back to him and he accepted it with a solemn nod, and a half smile.

He would most certainly investigate the job opportunities open at the Watchers' Council, even if he expected no more than a wispy failed Wizard with a superiority complex.

Remus joined the others as they collected their other books for the school year and generally perused the bookshop. Harry wandered away reasonably often to check on the progress of the book signing. He was still eager to talk to Buffy separately, and she smiled encouragingly when she saw him, but she was still inundated by fans.

Eventually the crowds thinned out and Buffy retreated through the back door. Harry left his books with the others to make his way around the back. They let him go on the conditions that Logan and Arthur were allowed to follow him (at a discreet distance), he wore his invisibility cloak and had his wand drawn.

Harry stopped at the end of the alley into the back of Flourish and Blotts when he heard voices. Two people, who he couldn't see around the corner, were arguing, quite vehemently. A man and woman by their voices, and even through the invisibility cloak, he was sure he recognised them.

About to remove the cloak and step out, Harry heard his own name. Moody had drilled him in the idea that vigilance was he better part of valour. He froze; despite the dubious nature of Moody's declaration, Harry tended to follow his advice.

"You're jealous," the woman said.

The man scoffed.

"Then tell me why I can't help the boy."

"Are you implying that my jealousy would be a reason for you put down this fool's errand?"

"I didn't know that you could put down an errand," the woman. Harry was that the fake confusion in her voice was Buffy's. "But you're hardly an enemy anyone wants."

"Thank you. You would do best to keep out of Potter's way. He has a tendency to make mistakes which can be costly."

Snape. Harry felt his own pain and anger begin to rise again.

"So can I," Buffy said sharply. "Have you read my book? Did I tell you that my friends, who hated me then, cried when they read it?"

"I pity the poor souls," Snape said. "But that was not my point. Potter's life and manners are dangerous and he would do best to face them on his own. The advice of a young woman whose experiences hold little weight against his own will not, in the long run, prove to be helpful."

Harry's anger was fuelled further by this slight against Buffy. She had known what she was talking about. And Hermione had said that the book's accounts were realistic.

"I know what I'm talking about," Buffy said. "I was his age, facing things much bigger than him, not very long ago. You have nothing to say about that."

"You question my experience?"

"I question your feelings for Harry, yes. You are mean and bitter old man."

"Why you little chit!"

"Hey," Buffy said. "Rule one, nothing about my height. Point two, I know many people who would be willing and able to take you down for derogatory comments about women. If you cannot argue a point without resorting to personal attacks, then you lack either the pride or the intelligence of a true master."

Her defiant declaration was met with silence. Harry was impressed that anyone had stood up to the Snape. But the following sounds of a scuffle worried him. Snape was known for his self-restraint in the face of personal insults. Harry didn't think that there was anything worse than calling him stupid, except maybe comparing him to Sirius, which in Snape's warped mind meant the same thing.

After several long breaths Harry still had no clue as to what was happening. Silence, he'd come to learn, was rarely a good sign, and certainly wasn't comforting. Moody's voice still in his head he stepped, invisible, around the corner into the back lot of the bookshop.

He was confronted by one of the most horrific and scaring images of his life: Professor Snape and Buffy kissing. Not a friendly kiss on the cheek type of kiss, but a full-body, lips pressed, passionate embrace. It didn't look one of the kisses in the movies; which he could have dismissed as his own nightmare image; it was definitely real. They were definitely enjoying it.

Harry found himself sitting on the concrete. Florian Fortescue's Sundae Special began to turn in his stomach. And, like the bad train wreck movie, he found he couldn't look away.

Reluctantly, it appeared to Harry, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. As if they had run a sprint, Harry forced himself to think. Not anything else, sprinting.

"Rule three," Buffy panted, "you can't end arguments like that."

"Why ever not?" Snape asked, with polite interested, "You did last night."

Harry's brain was unable to process the connotations of that phrase, with the sprinting idea. There was little you could do to avoid the obvious implications. His eyes rolled back in his head. This wasn't a lust potion of some kind; it was a real relationship. His head banged against the concrete as he fell backwards. But he was aware of the parting lines.

"I'll have a point to argue with you tonight, wench."

"Only if you show me the trick to that cloak swirling thing."



Harry came to with a sore head. He opened his eyes to find Buffy's anxious face peering down at him. He blushed. Buffy smiled gently.

"Don't worry, I've been caught doing much worse things, by much worse people, in worse situations, too."

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the alley quickly. Buffy handed him his invisibility cloak.

"I kind of got distracted before I really noticed you were there," Buffy apologised, "Or I would have said something. I won't now, because Severus doesn't seem to like you very much. There's not much worse than a teacher with a grudge. Ones that want to bite your friend's head off are up there. Can you stand?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Up," Buffy said. "Stand up, rather than lying down?"

Harry nodded. Buffy held out a hand and helped pull him to his feet. Harry brushed himself off and looked around again. Surely Tonks and Arthur would be somewhere nearby.

Buffy gestured to the cloak in his hand.

"Do you know where I could get one of those? I'm sure they'd come in handy. I've had to fight invisible things before, I'd like a chance to even the playing field a little."

Harry shrugged. "This was my father's."

"Ah, no worries," Buffy said. "Maybe I can finesse Severus into getting me one for Christmas. He still owes me for the Turok-Han power I gave him for his birthday."

Harry found the fact that she called him Severus as disturbing as any of the images his brain supplied to go with the word "finesse." In rebuttal to the thoughts of Buffy and Snape, Harry's brain supplied with information for a History of Magic class. He wondered if he could use the memory as a study aid.

"Turok-Hans haven't existed for thousands of years," he said. "The last powder was used more than a century ago for... ... something. But we've just got normal vampires now."

"Unless you're up against the self-styled ultimate evil who has a key into hell," Buffy said, brightly.

Harry blinked. But decided to go with safe option of nodding and smiling vaguely.

"You'll just have to read my books," Buffy told him, well recognising the look.

"But Snape!" Harry said, his mind finally taking over his mouth. "He's older than you, and mean and nasty, and embittered. He's all dark and sallow. And looming. And he used to be evil. You're much to beautiful to be stuck with him."

"Well, you can read the first book to learn that that's not always the case. Especially for me."

Harry nodded, unsure that he really wanted to think down those lines.

Buffy grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you have people who are supposed to be protecting you," she said gently. "Just remember that prophecies are not the be all and end all. They depend on interpretation, and no matter how clear-cut it looks, it never falls out the way you'd expect. Just do what needs to be done, and don't be afraid to ask for help, or other opinions. Prophecies will happen, and trying to fulfil them, or get around them will never work. Look what happened to Oedipus, or, well, his father, I suppose, or the Wicked Witch in Snow White. Or me. Trust me, dying sucks. The first rule is don't die.' Do you think you can manage that?"

Harry paused, mind humming. The latest thoughts would not disturb his sleep as much as the earlier ones.

"I'll try," he said.

"All anyone can do," Buffy said. "Here, take my card. I know you guys don't have email there, but that address will let your owl through straight to me. And I might see you around at school some times, too."

He groaned. Buffy chuckled.

"Don't look like that. I have to talk to Dumbledore about setting up a trust fund. Besides, if I were coming to see Severus, I would hardly advertise it by letting myself be seen by students."

Harry closed his. "You know I'm going to be wondering about that now, don't you?"

"I'm evil like that," Buffy said.

She picked up her guitar case from against the wall and slung it over her shoulder.

"See you, Harry. Good luck."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling in reply. "You, too."

Buffy waved to him as she went one way down the alley and he turned around back to where Tonks and Mr Weasley would be. It had been good to speak to someone who both understood what he had to do, and was not awed by it. He would look forward to seeing her again.

~*~