Tea and Toast

Disclaimer: Not mine, not any of it. Obviously its all owned by other people, who are far richer, smarter, prettier and cooler than me. Set during the final episodes of Season Six.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was enjoying a moment of rare quiet over the breakfast table at Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys were all away, and that portrait in the hall had switched from shrieks to muttered imprecations some time earlier that morning. He had just brewed a fresh pot of tea. The large wizard had found a pot of marmalade that looked deliciously full of peel, and was seated in front of a plate of freshly toasted bread, clutching the marmalade pot in one large hand, and a butter knife in the other. Outside the kitchen window, a sparrow was chirping merrily to itself

It was one of those perfect, still moments of serenity.

There was a muffled pop from behind him, as if someone had just apparated into the kitchen.

"That stuff is disgusting, just you know."

The woman's voice sent his spine into spasms and he dropped the knife. The sparrow uttered a call of alarm and left three brown feathers on the windowsill in its hasty escape.

"What do you want?" he choked out, dropping the marmalade pot onto the table and groping in his robes for his wand. "Get away from here!"

He leapt from his chair, which tipped backwards onto the floor with a loud thud. The slim blonde woman who had provoked his reaction stepped gracefully backward out of its way and looked at him with a hint of exasperation.

"Oh, put that thing away, Shacklebolt. I'm not interested in your wand anymore. Or your penis, for that matter." She twisted her lips into a moue of irritation. He did not lower his wand.

"What do you want, Anyanka?"

"You," the woman replied. Kingsley must have looked even more alarmed because she qualified that with – "Well, your help anyway."

He blinked at her, uncomprehending.

"You turned me into a worm!" he sputtered, slivers of outrage working through his initial alarm. "A worm! For a week!"

"Oh, you changed back. Stop whining. Anyway. I didn't make the wish, I just made it come true." She quirked her mouth in amusement. "Like a good fairy."

"Like a bloody nightmare, more like," he replied. "You tricked me into it!"

She looked offended. "I did no such thing! Anyway. You hardly needed any persuading to dump that little witch and have sex with the first vengeance demon that came along."

"I didn't know you were a demon at the time," he said, a trifle sulkily. "It's not like you lot wear nametags."

"I wasn't wearing anything at all for most of our time together, as I recall," she retorted. Her face changed to a slightly wistful expression. "You know, they always say that black men have larger penises. In my experience, it's mostly just true in porno magazines… but you, well…"

Kingsley Shacklebolt was horrified.

"Stop that! Stop thinking about my… thing."

"I'm not here on the vengeance thing, like I said. Anyway. It was only because I was so impressed with your thing that the worm state was temporary. I need your help."

He began to reply, but stopped when his brain processed what she had just said.

"My help?"

She nodded, and picked up a slice of his toast.

"This is getting cold. I understand that you Britishers eat some disgusting food – I know a few personally so I can truthfully say that – but cold toast might be pushing it."

He looked from her face to the toast and back again, still confused and defensive. She took a step toward him and he scrambled backward again, wand held in front of him. She frowned at him.

"Oh stop scrambling. I just want some butter."

She reached past him and seized the butter dish, then returned to the table to butter the toast that she had appropriated. She righted the chair, plopped down in it, and ate her piece of toast in four big bites.

"What sort of help?" he asked at last, easing carefully into a chair opposite her, wand still at the ready.

"We have a witch problem," she said, brushing off her fingers. She grimaced and pushed the plate of crumbs away. "Luke warm. Even worse. So indecisive."

"A witch problem?" Shacklebolt prompted reluctantly.

Anya gestured vaguely. "A witch. Gone power crazy, all black and veiny and evil. You know the sort." She tried a sip of his tea. "We could use your help to sort her out."

"We? More demons? And that's my tea." He slid his hand across the table and grabbed the cup, sloshing a little over the rim as he pulled it protectively toward himself.

"No, not more demons. A Slayer, a Watcher, a Key, a vampire turned good, a couple of nerds and a lying sonofabitch. We are trying to save the world here, Kingsley. I don't have time for your demon prejudice."

He gulped his tea. "Demon prejudice? I don't think I deserve censure for not being able to move past the fact that you turned me into a worm."

She sighed irritably. "I'm not getting anywhere here am I?"

Shacklebolt imitated her sigh. "We do have some problems of our own here at the moment you know. Evil wizards."

"And we have an evil witch, so it dovetails perfectly."

"No." He looked straight at her, waiting for any sign that she was about to turn him into a worm again. Or worse. She glared at him for a long moment.

"Jeez. You turn a guy into a worm for one tiny week, just doing your job, plus you have some terrific sex with him beforehand, and he hates you for it."

The big wizard didn't move, still watching her warily. He turned his wand to the kitchen bench.

"Accio quill. Accio parchment."

A large feather quill and an old scrap of parchment floated from the bench to his large hand. Anya watched impassively. Shacklebolt scribbled on the back of the envelope for a moment, then pushed it toward her across the table.

"Here," he said brusquely. "Try this witch. She lives more in the muggle world than we do here. Has something called a Coven. She might be able to help."

Anya picked up the envelope and studied the back of it, then studied the wizard who had handed it to her. He seemed slightly less frantic; more convinced that she was, in fact, not here to turn him into a worm again.

"Okay then. This is the best it's going to get from you, I suppose." She flashed him a brilliant smile. "You mortals, so worried about things like being turned into a worm. You made a cute worm."

He flinched, just a little and quickly suppressed.

With another muffled pop, she vanished and he was left alone, once more in silence, with his tea and toast crumbs. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

Giles swore when Anya popped into existence behind him and poked him. He whirled around.

"Damn it, Anya, don't do that to me. How did you go?"

She handed him the envelope. "Here. Big baby won't come himself, but thought that this witch might be able to help."

Giles scrutinized the paper, and his face creased into a small smile. "Of course. Althenea. I had forgotten about her."

Anya shrugged. "I need to get back. I thought I could help here."

Giles looked up from the envelope at her. "Oh, you did. You were surprisingly very helpful indeed. I think we will be able to stop her with this if I move quickly." He gestured at the table behind him. "Would you like some tea and toast before you go?"

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced. "No, thanks. I've eaten."

Another muffled pop and she was gone.