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Life in Sunnyhell

October, Harry's seventh year.

Chapter Two:


It was cold and stormy by the middle of October. Harry got to spend his evenings in the Gryffindor common room, listening absently to Hermione and Ron bickering. Ron refused to let Hermione talk about Buffy's book until he had finished reading it. Which of course, would be long after Hermione had finished (two hours and forty-five minutes after they had gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron).

"But how many books have you ever actually finished, Ronald?" Hermione snapped. "Two books about the Chudley Cannons and those awful comics."

Ron glared at Hermione sourly and crossed his arms. Harry thought that Hermione's point was a bit harsh, however accurate it might be. Buffy's book was more interesting and easier to read than any of their school texts, and many of the books Hermione read for pleasure.

Hermione couldn't make Ron talk about the book, and she couldn't really get him to listen to her comments about it either. Until he arrived in the common room one evening before Halloween, carrying the book and a triumphant expression.

"I hope we can have her for Defence Against the Dark Arts next year," Ron announced. "She'd be much more interesting than Professor Mountjoy. Especially if she showed us some of those moves she describes," he added, thoughtfully. "And I wonder if she ever dates younger guys."

Hermione, who had been looking pleased with Ron, narrowed her eyes and made a hissing type of noise, both disgust and derision. The sound reminded Harry quite strong of the sound the Basilisk had made before she had struck. Harry decided that Moody had been quite right; he did not want to get between an irate witch and her target, however much danger his best friend might be in.

"You did read the book, didn't you?" Hermione said. "I doubt that they were actually the Vampires she describes, but even if they were human, it's a metaphor for age and experience, and maturity, none of which you have, Ron."

"So I'll never be as old or as smart or as mature as you, Hermione. And I'll never not be a guy. But it doesn't mean I'm actually stupid."

Hermione huffed.

"Of course not, Ron," she said. But Harry, and it seemed Ron, too, thought she sounded too patronising and too placating.

Harry knew that Buffy wouldn't be at all interested in Ron, even if he were older than she was, but he didn't like to think about the proof he had. Ron had crossed his arms, a familiar recent habit when dealing with Hermione, and was glaring at her again.

"I don't think it's a metaphor, Hermione," Harry said gently.

Hermione rounded on him, angry now at having been interrupted.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, what you said about age and maturity, and I suppose experience, too. I think she really likes guys like that. I think her boyfriend really was a vampire. So she'd go for guys who are like vampires."

Ron snorted. "So out of everyone at Hogwarts, she'd mostly likely go for Snape."

Harry blanched. He knew he had wanted to tell his friends what he had seen. There hadn't been an appropriate opportunity before now. But he had just been forcibly reminded of exactly what he had seen, and found he was unable to speak.

Hermione suddenly looked concerned.

"You look like you're going to be sick, Harry."

Harry was just able to nod.

"You are going to be sick? Do you want to see Madam Pomfrey? Or should I just transfigure you a bucket? Ron, hand me that book."

Harry thought he must have looked almost as ill as he had felt, because Ron handed over his copy of Life in Sunnyhell without protest. Harry waved him away.

"Ron was right," Harry said. "Snape is just Buffy's type."

It was Ron's turn to blanch. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Angelus was supposed to be very attractive," she said slowly.

"And you know this how?" Ron demanded.

"Ron!" Hermione sighed. "There are pictures in some of the books I read. You could probably read them, too."

She smiled gently at him. Ron scowled, but less than before.

"Ah, you did hear what I said?" Harry asked. "Buffy and Snape."

"I don't believe it," Ron said firmly.

"I can see how you might see a parallel like that, Harry," Hermione said. "But I don't think that Snape would be interested in anyone, let alone Buffy. He gives off a real sense of 'leave me alone, dark and broodiness.'"

Harry quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Hermione's eyes widened and she said "oh!" quietly.

"I don't believe it," Ron said again.

"Well, I saw them kissing," Harry said, sounding as shocked and disgusted as he felt.

"Okay," Ron sad, after several moments silence. "Okay."

"I probably shouldn't have told you. But, well, you were never going to have a chance, and I thought you should know."

"This was when you hit your head?" Hermione asked. "There was no other time you could have seen them alone together," Hermione explained.

"It was why I hit my head," Harry said. "I saw them and was so shocked I fainted. Buffy was very good about it afterwards. She told me not to die."

Harry had been thinking about his odd conversations with Buffy on and off for the last several weeks. Some of what she had said had been so simple and made so much sense, and yet she seemed to take nothing particularly seriously. He thought, perhaps, he might like to ask her about Sirius.

Ron had once again expressed his doubts about the whole thing and Harry's sanity. Harry was quite protective of his representations of his mental state, but felt that he wanted Ron to be right. Hermione was arguing by making a case for Snape's attractiveness. This did not seem to be helping.

"No!" Ron shouted. "I don't care how well he looks after his robes, I don't want to hear about it."

"Neither do I," Harry said. "Couldn't you play chess, or something, then I could go for a walk, I need to think."

Hermione looked concerned again, but Harry stood up briskly and grinned at them.

"I found a book on the history of chess at my local library," Hermione told Ron, before he say anything more. "I'm sure I have I much better understanding of the use of castling and defensive pawns now."

Ron's smile was not particularly reassuring. Harry waved goodbye to him and pick up his cloak on the way towards to the portrait.

Harry walked aimlessly through the castle, trying to replace the memories of Buffy kissing Snape by thinking about her advice on prophecies. He had been thinking carefully about 'Prophecies will happen... but not the way you expect.' It was causing him a little difficultly because as far as anyone knew, only half of his prophecy had been fulfilled, which meant there was more of it to go, and he had no idea what to think about it.

He turned a random corner and skipped down a staircase, while he thought about Dumbledore's place in things. He still hadn't felt comfortable about taking questions to Dumbledore, even though Dumbledore was more comfortable about answering them.

"Neither can live while the other survives," was a phrase that particularly worried him. Did it mean that he wasn't already alive? After all, he had been hit with the killing curse. The only way not to die when you were hit with the killing was to already be dead. And then there was "Either must die at the hand of the other," which came just before it. Harry didn't see that there was anyway he was going to get out of actually killing Voldemort, and neither could Dumbledore.

Harry stopped suddenly in the quiet corridors of the castle and looked around him, sure that Mrs Norris must be somewhere nearby, even if it wasn't curfew yet. He walked quietly passed Myrtle's bathroom, not wanting the ghost's attention either, and continued wandering, through the castle and the prophecy, which had been haunting him since before he was born.

Eventually his contemplations were happily interrupted by voices. Well, it was happy until Harry recognised the combination of voices that had been haunting him for the last couple of months.

"Are you sure we're okay in public like this, Severus? You said something about the proprieties of a teacher."

"It's not yet after curfew," Snape's distinctive voice replied.

Distinctive was the best that could be said for it, Harry thought.

"You only find children out after curfew," Snape sneered. "They do it so I have to patrol the corridors, wasting my evenings keeping the brattlings out of trouble. One cannot have an evening off without first arranging it with the headmaster and putting up various snide and suggestive comments when the other staff discover that you are not on a particular night's roster."

Harry felt a little thrill at triumph that Snape disliked patrolling the corridors as much as they disliked him patrolling corridors, even if it did make him seem a little more normal. Harry's feelings of pleasure were completely destroyed by Buffy's cooing response.

"Oh, you really missed me, sweetheart?"

Despite the obvious exaggeration in Buffy's tone of voice, Harry was horrified to think that she had been sincere, at least in sentiment.

"No one has ever accused me of even having a heart," Snape said, sounding mildly curious. "Let alone a sweet one."

"I'm a Vampire Slayer," Buffy said.

There was a pause, and faint wet noise. Harry knew, personally now, what that was, and for the first time since Susan had stayed behind after last year's first DA meeting, wished he didn't.

"I can see things," Buffy said, a little breathlessly, now. There was another pause before she said, "other people cannot."

"So Faith would be able to verify the existence of my heart, and its sugar content."

"Well, Faith has made mistakes in the past. And I don't think I want you to get close enough to her for her to try."

"Well, then, I suppose I can merely dismiss your comments as erroneous and meant to annoy."

"As long as you don't dismiss me as merely erroneous and meant to annoy," Buffy said.

"How can I prove that I haven't?" Snape asked.

Harry almost screamed. This was Professor Snape trying to be seductive. But the Train-wreck thing had started again, and Harry was worried that if he moved they would hear him. Well, Snape hearing, he supposed Buffy would be much kinder, even if she weren't very nice about it at all. She couldn't give detentions.

"Well," Buffy said, in a tone of voice that froze Harry's insides. "You could kiss me again. And I liked what you did that Wednesday."

Harry froze. The vagueness of the reference, and the obvious seductive qualities of Buffy's tone of voice, were really too much for him to think about in relation to Professor Snape. Harry quietly and with extreme care, backed down the corridor. When he was safe from being heard, he turned to run back to the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione and Ron were still in the middle of a chess game, Ron's steepled fingers moving in the manner of movie villains. Harry flung himself into a chair beside them.

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked.

"Buffy's here," Harry said.

"How is she?" Hermione asked; a little distracted by a vicious attack on one of her rooks.

"I didn't say hi," Harry said. He took a breath, "She was in the dungeons. With Snape."

"I bet she would have welcomed an interruption. She could have protected you from getting detention."

"I'm sure they wanted to be alone," Harry said.

Ron looked at him, confused for a moment as to what he meant. And Hermione merely looked sceptical. She also looked like she might try to come up with another explanation of what they were doing together.

"They weren't fighting," Harry said. "And if you won't believe me, please just let it be. I don't want to think about it anymore."

Ron and Hermione went back to their game, obviously humouring Harry for the moment. Harry didn't mind. He still had no idea what Buffy might see in Snape, nor any desire to find anything attractive in the man. That way was a slippery slope to mental breakdown. But he still had questions to ask Buffy about what she had said; he'd just have to wait until he saw her in more approachable circumstances.


~*~