While You Were Asleep

By Olympus -117

TtH_100 Prompts are used. Prompt #87: Hot.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all things Buffy and everything Potter is property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just meddling my unworthy hands in their greatness. :P

Summary: Just as Willow tries a new spell, she accidentally summons a very drunk, very sexy Hermione Granger into her living room. Oneshot- maybe. Femlash, not done very well, but ... Oh well :D Buffy/Harry Potter Crossover. Pre-Season Four, Post DH.

CC is preferred, if you have any, but honest opinions are valued. Enjoy people ;)

Willow Rosenberg finished chanting the incantation and slowly opened her eyes. She blinked for an entire second before giving an embarrassingly high squeak of fright and jumping back from her living room into the hall, then squeaking again as the jar of musk that she was holding in her hands slipped from her grasp and hit the ground, glass shattering, and scattering the finely ground powder all over the floorboards.

The reason for her shock became apparent, as in front of her, sprawled - apparently unconscious, on her carpet was a tall, dark figure. Willow froze and her heart began to race, thumping almost painfully against her ribcage.

Who was it? An assassin? A demon? A vampire? Wait, no, it can't be a vampire; they couldn't get inside her house because of the rule thingy, so what could it be? Should she call Buffy? Giles? Maybe Xander? Wait, how did it get inside her house in the first place? Maybe she should –

Willow gave herself a mental slap on both cheeks. Focus girl. The red-haired witch took a deep – albeit shaky - breath and edged closer; raising her arms, a spell on the tip of her tongue should the intruder prove to have less than friendly intentions. As she approached the figure, she slowly peered over, intending to get a glimpse of her intruder's face... And promptly squeaked again in surprise.

It was a woman! A young – and very attractive woman, Willow had to admit. She looked to be only a couple of years older than Willow herself. What was she doing passed out on the carpet of her house?

Willow kneeled down and turned the woman over, gently combing aside the strands of bushy brown hair that had fallen over her face. She had a small nose, smooth, creamy skin with a light smattering of freckles across her cheeks, her red lips were slightly turned up at the ends, as if she had been smiling a lot lately, and there was a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

Acting on impulse Willow ran her finger down the woman's cheek and frowned. They were absolutely freezing! Now that she could see closer, Willow realised that there were tiny crystals of snow caught on her hair. She scrambled up and with a flick of her wrists, summoned several blankets from her bedroom upstairs, watching with satisfaction as they floated down the steps, past the hall and into the living room, draping themselves over the still, unconscious figure beside her.

'But it hasn't been snowing anywhere near here,'Willow muttered to herself with confusion as she rushed to the kitchen to heat up several jugs of water. She waved her hand and caused several drawers to slide open. Another wave and simultaneously, a number of hot water bottles rose up, unscrewed themselves and hung in the air, each waiting patiently for her to pour the boiling water from the jugs into them before the caps turned back on by themselves and the bottles shot off to join the blankets and the figure on the carpet. Willow scrunched her eyebrows together and bit her lower lip as she started to heat up another jug of water, intent on making herself a cup of very strong coffee.

Just where had this strange woman come from?

Ten minutes and several cups of coffee later, Willow sat next to the woman on the carpet, her fourth mug of coffee steaming between her hands as she further scrutinised the person beside her. She had first tried to wake the woman up but it had taken her less than a minute to realise that she was drunk. Very drunk. And that to wake her would be a very bad idea. If the magical tests that Willow had ran on her were anything to go by, the woman would have a mammoth hangover in the morning.

The next thing Willow had discovered had shocked her, although thankfully she had managed to contain the squeak this time. When she had touched the woman's skin shortly after performing the test spell, a small tingle had passed between the two women, causing Willow's hair to stand on end. At first, she had thought that it was only the residue magic left over from the spell, but when Willow repeated it, again the tingle.

It had taken her a while to arrive at a conclusion, and it was an unlikely conclusion at that, but the more she thought about it, the more that it made sense.

The other woman was a witch.

It was the only explanation, aside from another theory involving demons and the Hellmouth PMSing; but all in all, this seemed like the more likely, if not more probable, scenario. It would also explain – sort of – how the woman had managed to arrive in Willow's carpet.

Willow then sat back and considered her options. She looked at the clock mounted on the wall and suppressed a yawn. 2:46 AM. She really should be asleep; she then glanced back the woman gently snoring on her floor and fought back a laugh. The other witch had somehow managed to push the blankets down to her waist and was now mumbling something inaudible into her pillow, her pink lips glazing lipstick ever so slightly onto the cream coloured cloth. Willow smiled; she looked so peaceful and cute. Wait - cute? Did she just think another woman was cute?

At that moment, Willow felt something strange tingle in the bottom of her stomach, like butterflies, but of the good kind. She frowned; it wasn't the magic she was sure, they weren't even close to touching. No, this was something else, something different...

She shook the thoughts away and looked back down at the woman, smiling as kneeled down beside her. As Willow went to pull the blankets back up, her hand accidentally brushed the other witch's breast.

Willow gasped as another tingle went through her body as she stared at the woman, and for the first time, Willow took in her slim figure and smooth curves; her luscious brown hair that framed her beautiful face and underneath the blanket, her very shapely legs. Was it just her, or did it just get dizzyingly hot in the room?

As hard as she tried to stop it, Willow's eyes kept flickering back to the brunette witch, her eyes roving, seeking out places that she had never before looked at in a woman, she could already imagine... No, stop it!

The blush on her cheeks deepened. The red-haired witch cursed as the familiar prickles of attraction began to surface.

Willow sighed exasperatedly. A strange woman appears on her living room and all she could think about was getting into her pants? And she didn't even know her name yet! What on Earth was going on?

She looked at the brunette witch beside her, still fast asleep, blankets drawn up to her chin. Willow brushed a stray strand of hair from the woman's face and sighed. 'You know, I do believe I've just gone and fallen in love with you.' she whispered.

Then the full impact of what she had just said, hit her. 'Oh dear lord,' Willow muttered before shaking her head in resignation. Things must really be getting strange if she was starting to quote Giles.

Willow completed the spell and watched as the woman in front of her slowly shimmered and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but still-warm blankets and a pillow, still moulded to the shape of her head.

The red-haired witch sighed and rose up, stretching up her arms. She turned out and headed towards the hall, her slippers padding quietly on the floor. All in all, she reflected, that was one of the more interesting nights of her life, and that was including Scooby related times too.

Already, the first rays of sunlight were beaming through the windows, bathing the house with a warm, golden light. It was only when she bought her hand over her mouth to suppress a wide yawn that Willow realised she had stayed up the entire night. Her eyelids drooping and becoming heavier, she headed up the stairs, where her very warm and very soft bed awaited her.

Just before she turned to her room however, she glanced back at the living room, at the spot on the carpet covered with blankets and pillows where, only minutes previously, a certain brunette witch lay sleeping.

A smile playing at her lips, she turned and entered her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Minutes later, Harry Potter opened the door of the Three Broomsticks and suppressed a loud snort. Passed out, lying atop the bar, after she had claimed that she was only having a "couple" of butterbeers, was none other than Hermione Granger.

Not that she was alone, the entire pub was full of gentle –and some, not so gentle, snores as the survivors of the battle slept off the after effects of their celebrations.

Harry, shaking his head, navigated his way through the upturned tables, broken chairs and unconscious wizards and witches lying on the floor. When he got to the bar, he shook his head and went to shake Hermione awake, but before he could, his eye was drawn towards something shiny on her wrist.

Bending down as to inspect it closer, Harry realised that it was a silver bangle. Harry raised an eyebrow as he noted the runic engravings on the bracelet. No doubt, Hermione would know what they meant.

Sighing, Harry prodded the witch in the shoulder until she moaned and her eyes fluttered open. Harry felt his lips twitching at the narrowed eyes and suspicious look that Hermione was giving him.

"What?" she snapped, attempting to sit upright, but collapsing almost immediately. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "Harry, why is everything spinning?" she groaned.

Harry picked up an empty bottle of firewhisky from the table beside her and turned to the witch, raising an eyebrow. "I'd say, odds are, this had something to do with it."

Another groan, this time accompanied by a vague swat with her arm in his direction. "Smart arse."

Harry laughed and easily sidestepped her hand. "Well, you got the first part right, anyway," said The Boy-Who-Lived, grinning.

Despite the throbbing migraine, Hermione rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "Give it, Harry."

Harry feigned a look of innocence. "Give what?"

"Harry!"

He laughed again. "Fine, fine," said Harry, reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out a small purple bottle. He waved it tantalisingly in front her face before Hermione snatched it out of his hand with a scowl and uncorked it, quickly gulping the contents down, grimacing at the taste.

"Better?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded, sighing as the pain from her throbbing head lessened considerably. She sat up on the bar and pulled her robes closer over her chest. Despite being indoors, the air still had a slight chill to it.

"Where did you get it, anyway?" she asked, turning to her best friend and giving Harry a quizzical look.

Harry shrugged, sitting up on the bar next to her, he too, drawing his robes tighter. "George had a stock, he was handing them out to everyone he could see."

Hermione picked up a bottle of butterbeer beside her, frowning at it distrustfully. "Was that before or after he spiked the drinks?"

Harry grinned, "Before, I think," he said. Hermione snorted and went to brush her hair back from her face. As she did so, she caught sight of the silver bangle on her arm. Turning to Harry, she shook her wrist slightly, the metal reflecting the light from the candles on the ceiling. "And what's this?"

Harry shrugged, "How should I know? You're the one wearing it." Hermione glowered at him before slipping the bracelet off her wrist and bringing it up to her face, examining it from every angle. As her fingers traced the faint runes engraved on the warm metal, the brunette witch frowned.

Harry leaned in, an air of interest around him. "Where did you get it?" he said. "It looks brand new."

Hermione shook her head, "I honestly don't know. I remember falling asleep –"

Harry smirked. "Shut up Harry! – And when you woke me up-"she fingered the bangle, "this was here."

"The runes," said Harry, curiously, nodding at the engraved writing. "What do they say?"

Hermione hesitated. "That's the thing ... All they say is: 'Sunnydale, California.'"

Harry shrugged. "Never heard of it, I-" At that moment there was a loud crash outside the pub, accompanied by colourful curses by a voice that sounded a lot like Mundugus Fletcher.

"Better see what this is about," Harry muttered, jumping down from the bar. Turning back to Hermione, he said: "Take care of yourself, won't you?"

Harry gave her a soft smile, before turning around and bypassing the slumbering figures on the floor and quietly exiting the building

Hermione was left alone, sitting on the bar by herself. Looking down, she turned the silver bracelet in her hand around slowly. She vaguely caught a flash of half-forgotten memory: the swish of red hair and the sweet scent of musk, warm chocolate coloured eyes and soft pink lips...

Hermione felt a small smile growing on her lips. California? Why not?

Turning around, she jumped off the bar, making her way towards the door. The witch pulled open the door and stepped outside into the bright new morning. Smiling, she pocketed the bracelet, and disaparated with a loud pop!

Halfway across the world, Willow Rosenberg was woken by her doorbell ringing.

And that, as they say, was that.