Not So Much with the Heaven
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and anything associated with it doesn't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon. All things Harry Potter are property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made (believe me!).
Summary: After Buffy "dies," she goes not to Heaven, but to Hogwarts. . . in 1977.
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Poppy Pomfrey sat by her young charge's bed, staring at the girl as if trying to figure out a mystery. She had been a Healer for nearly ten years now, and she had seen a lot of terrible things. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she had seen many cases worse than this one, which was why she didn't understand why she was affected so deeply.
Maybe it was the extent of the injuries, or the fact that most of them were physical, not magical. She was covered in cuts and scrapes; it had taken Poppy nearly ten minutes to scourgify all the blood away. The clothes she had been in would never be wearable again. She had two broken legs, a crushed rib, a broken arm, three broken vertebrae, and a fracture in her skull. If she had been in a muggle hospital she would have been paralyzed at the very least, probably dead.
Not to mention the dark magic that had so obviously been used on her. The night of her arrival, it had been practically rolling off her in waves, so much so that even Peter Pettigrew could feel it. Now, four days later the traces were reduced, but if she closed her eyes and was perfectly silent, Poppy could still feel it embedded in the girl's skin. It would probably always be present.
Her 'To hell with it,' on the night of the girl's arrival had been stuck to, and she had kept the girl on enough pain potions to keep a hippogriff knocked out. She had even gone against her original decision and given the girl potions to help her heal more quickly, unable to bear the sight of the horrific injuries. She would have to stop that soon; tomorrow even. What she had said to Dumbledore on the night of the girl's arrival was true: if she overused potions, the girl would never be able to heal the muggle way again.
She didn't think it had anything to do with the girl's injuries though. Rather, she thought the connection she felt to her charge had more to do with the girl herself. She was so young; Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one at most. And she was a muggle. But it was more than that, really. It was in the way she slept, the look on her face; peaceful most of the time, but fitful and tense at others as if she were trying to jerk herself awake.
Every night so far she had screamed it in her sleep.
"YOU HAVE A DESTINY!!!"
She said other things as well. Always whispered. Almost always about death.
"Death is my gift?"
"Giles, I don't wanna die."
"We're not supposed to move the body!"
Poppy was ready for the girl to wake up. She wanted to know her name, this child who had ignited such fierce feelings in her. Pity, of course. Longing for the young child she had lost so long ago. Her little girl with hair as blonde as this one's was. And anger. Fierce, boiling anger.
You-Know-Who had been on the rise for years now, and Dumbledore had always warned her that he was dangerous. But all of the dead or missing wizards and witches in the Daily Prophet attributed to the faceless name had not angered her the way this little slip of a girl had. Terrified yes, angered, never. But she had meant what she said to James Potter the other night. If The Dark Lord had been in front of her at that very moment, she would have attacked and died without a second thought. Amazing, what one broken stranger could do.
Suddenly the girl on the bed began to whimper. She tried to struggle, but it was in vain. After the first night of her wild thrashing, Poppy had been forced to restrain her out of fear that she would damage her broken body irreparably. Now, as if in protest of being unable to move, she began to whimper louder. Touched by the girl's pain, Poppy reached out a cool hand and smoothed the hair off her face, then rested it gently on her cheek. Amazingly, this seemed to help, as after a moment the girl settled back into the bed with a peaceful look on her face. Then, her forehead scrunched again and she said the phrase that, of all the ones she had uttered, confused Poppy the most.
"You think we're dancing?"
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James Potter walked quietly into the hospital wing. He had been here every day since they found the girl six days ago. Madame Pomfrey was always glad to see him, and he hadn't understood that at first. Generally, when he and the others came to the hospital wing it was to visit Remus, and she usually chased them away. When he asked her about it she had stared rather blankly at him for a moment before finally answering.
"When you bother Mr. Lupin, I am angry because he needs rest. However, all this girl gets is rest. I'm rather hoping if you talk to her enough, she'll wake up. Honestly, it's been much too long. I'm beginning to be afraid that. . . ."
However, he had never found out what she was afraid of, for she had once again seemed to realize who she was talking to and snapped her mouth shut. She turned her attention to the girl, fluffing her pillows unnecessarily before heading into her office. Now, when James showed up, she didn't say anything, but rather gave him a tiny nod, turned on her heel, and shut herself in the office with the muttered excuse of paperwork.
At first, his friends had come with him, all of them interested in the girl they had rescued. However, as the week wore on and she still had not woken up, their visits had tapered off. Only James still came every day. For some reason, he could not tear himself away. So now he reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her face, before collapsing into the chair beside her bed.
"Hi? How are you today? Still comatose? Lovely." There was not even the slightest hint of movement from the bed, and James frowned. "Okay, okay, not funny. I get it. I suppose you want me to tell you what's going on around the school?
"Nobody knows you're here, except us and the faculty. Dumbledore thinks the students will panic if they find out Death Eaters got so close to the castle. Makes since I guess.
"The guys said to say they were sorry they couldn't come." They hadn't, but she didn't need to know that. "They're busy. Remus is studying for N.E.W.T.S; never mind that their almost six months away. Sirius is chasing after a sixth year Ravenclaw. Peter is trying to catch up on sleep. Apparently Filch keeping us up until three in the morning for detention wore him out.
"Hey, guess what? We played a great prank today on Snivellus. Don't worry, he deserved it. He called this girl a mudblood. I guess you probably don't know what that is. . . . It's better that way. I won't tell you. Not yet anyway.
"Well, I guess I should go. I don't really have anything else to tell you about, and I have a lot of homework. I'll come back before I go to sleep, if I can. We've got Hagrid for detention tonight, so he should let us out pretty early."
He stood and looked down at the girl. She looked so peaceful sleeping there. Not quite even realizing what he was doing, James bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then, he turned to go. Before he could reach the door, however, he heard her whimper in her sleep. He rushed back to her bed and took her small hand in his larger one just in time to hear her whisper in her sleep.
"Mom? Mom? Mommy?"
Suddenly, she was awake, and James was staring into beautiful bright green eyes.
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When Buffy opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the hazy shape of a boy standing by her bed holding her hand. They boy had messy dark hair, but she couldn't see well enough to make out any of his other features.
"Xander?" She whispered, her throat scratchy from sleep.
"No, I'm James."
She tried to ask him if this was heaven, but she supposed she hadn't been loud enough because the boy, James, bent down and placed his ear to her mouth.
"I'm dead?" she asked, instead.
"No! No," the boy whispered, looking shocked. "You're in the hospital wing."
"Oh. Don't like hospitals," she mumbled tiredly.
The boy smiled. "Me neither. What's your name?"
"Buffy. I'm Buffy," she said. Then, the pain hit her. A moment later darkness came over her eyes and she drifted off into blessed unconsciousness once more.