Disclaimer: The story of the White Doe is not mine. It is from Tales of the Slayer by Christopher Golden. The Roanoke-Grenville Accord is my take on the potential fallout from this story, if it were to happen in the HP universe.
As Bill watched his mother walk off in a huff into the living room, he felt ill. It wasn't because she was upset, or even because of her meddling. Those he could handle; he'd had years of practice, after all. It was because he had a nagging suspicion Buffy had heard the entire affair.
All in all, it was fairly humiliating.
When he heard Buffy come thundering down the stairs a moment later, he prepared himself for an intensely awkward moment. He only hoped she would be annoyed or amused; anything really, as long as it wasn't pity.
What he got was barely a glance, her gaze sweeping the kitchen as she searched for something.
"I need to use your phone… you do have a phone, right?" she asked.
Not at all what he was expecting, Bill was momentarily taken aback. Before he could sort out what she was asking, Hermione came padding down the stairs.
"No, we don't," she replied, slightly out of breath. "None in working order, at any rate. We use owls to communicate."
Buffy cringed. "And by owl you mean…"
Hermione smiled at her sympathetically. "Exactly how it sounds. We write a letter on a piece of parchment, which the owl then delivers."
"I'm pretty sure Willow will freak if an owl shows up at her door," Buffy muttered as she turned to Bill. "You probably can't Abracadabra me there, either, can you?"
Bill had to do his damnedest not to laugh at the look of mortification on Hermione's face as she realized what Buffy was referring to and the way she had mangled it - though imagining how his reaction would be received by both women helped considerably.
"Sorry," he said. "It's not advisable to Apparate to a place you've never been. Besides, Trans-Atlantic Apparition is a bit out of my range."
Buffy shook her head. "Actually, I wouldn't need to ocean hop. Willow is here in Devon, in a coven of Wiccans actually," she explained.
"Devon?" Bill said. "That actually isn't too far-"
"Did you say the Devon coven?" his mother asked as she walked into the kitchen, apparently dropping all pretense of minding her own business. "Arthur, isn't Arabella Figg's sister there?"
A moment later, Bill's father joined them in the kitchen. He gave Buffy a warm smile. "Hullo there, I'm Arthur Weasley. Welcome to the Burrow," he said. "Yes, dear, I believe she is, though I hear the head of the coven is a stern one who's not overly fond of us wand-bearing folk. At any rate, Apparition is most definitely out of the question, as the entire property is probably heavily warded against it; the surrounding land, too. If Maris Figg is there, there's a chance she's connected to the Floo network, but any kind of unexpected magic could be dangerous, particularly since it is getting on in the day."
Bill's mother nodded in agreement; a bit too eagerly, in his mind. "Perhaps it would be best to write to the head of the coven and petition to either Floo or fly there first thing in the morning?"
"Floo or fly- nevermind. I'll deal with that later," Buffy muttered.
She paused then, chewing her lip as she weighed her options. Bill could practically see the argument she was having with herself. It was obvious she needed to talk to her friend. On the other hand, he could imagine she would be reluctant to put herself through another bout of magic when she hadn't completely healed from the last. His father was right, too. It was already past 9; late for an unannounced visit.
Whatever the reason, Buffy quickly made up her mind.
"Do you have a pen and piece of paper I could use?"
Beaming, Bill's mother retrieved some parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink and put them on the kitchen table.
The look on Buffy's face was priceless. Still, to her credit, she didn't say a single thing. She simply sat down and grabbed hold of the quill and ink pot with a determined look in her eye.
When she accidentally snapped the quill in half, she apologized and asked for another. The second time it happened, her face grew grim and her apology was much more subdued. The third time, her expression turned downright wrathful as she glared at the quill, saying nothing but a terse 'thank you' as a new quill was given to her. Soon after, Bill's family wisely retreated into the living room.
Four broken quills and three shredded parchments later, she finally gave up, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.
Knowing this was his moment, Bill cleared his throat. "Here, let me have a go at it," he offered. Then, because opportunities like this were far and few between, he added, "You know, before you singlehandedly cause a quill shortage in England."
Though she glared mightily at him, she pushed the parchment and quill over toward him. Grinning, Bill grabbed the chair closest to him - one that also happened to be healthy distance away from her - and began to compose a letter.
He only got as far as the salutation when he realized he hadn't the slightest idea what he was requesting.
In the woods, he and Buffy had been thrown together by circumstance, working with one another out of sheer necessity. Now, however, the situation had changed. They could go their separate ways - or make a conscious choice to work together. Either way, a decision needed to be made.
Because there was no time like the present, Bill put the quill down and got right to it.
"Where do we go from here? Do 'we' go anywhere at all?" he asked, gesturing between the two of them.
Flustered, Buffy began to examine the table intently. "I'm not sure," she hedged. "I was kinda taking it one step at a time."
A ringing endorsement it was not. Though his pride demanded he not put himself out there any further, Bill didn't operate that way. It was time to lay his cards on the table.
"Fair enough," he replied. "I know we didn't get off to the best start, and the coven has bugger all to do with me. That being said, Greyback is still out there, and I don't think it's wise for us to split-"
Buffy held up her hand, effectively cutting him off.
"This may be hard to believe, but it's not that I don't trust you, not anymore. I was actually going to ask you for a Magic for Dummies session," she admitted. She took a deep breath and looked him steadily in the eye. "It's just… I'm not the safest person to be around. I never have been, and I never will be."
She didn't say it in a pitying way, nor in a way that sugarcoated the cold, hard truth. He gave her the courtesy of replying in kind - though inwardly he was groaning, as she all but confirmed she had overheard his conversation with his mother.
"If you hadn't noticed, neither am I, particularly with Greyback on the loose."
She said nothing at first, looking down at the table once again. When she finally looked up, however, her eyes were glinting with humor.
"You just don't want to miss out on the colossal beatdown I'm going to give him."
Bill grinned. "There's that, too."
She laughed at that. "Okay, round two of Bill and Buffy's excellent adventure then," she agreed. "But you can be the one to break it to your mom."
Bill couldn't argue with that. Besides, they both knew full well that his mother had heard every word.
The matter resolved, he picked up the quill. A few moments later, the letter was ready to go. He rolled up the parchment and made for the back door, making sure to grab an owl treat on the way.
He was surprised to find Buffy right behind him.
"First official team business?" she said. Though she looked almost indifferent as she spoke, her eyes darted furtively to the living room.
Bill wasn't fooled. He recognized the situation for what it was. It was a prison break.
They both knew that his mother and Angelina would object to her going outside, particularly at this late hour with Buffy clad only in a pajama set and nothing on her feet. At that precise moment, however, they weren't there to stop her; Angelina had left with George soon after Buffy went to take her bath to check on their children and his mother was in living room.
That left Bill, and he was not going to get in her way for all the world. She was probably going a little stir crazy being cooped up inside the house as well, especially from all the mollycoddling. He knew he would be. She also wasn't the most patient person in the world, so having to wait to see her friend must have been akin to torture.
Bill leaned down toward her ear to make sure his mother wouldn't hear. "I won't tell if you won't."
Her relief was palpable. She looked up and practically beamed at him. Together, they snuck out of the house like two truant school children, with Bill casting charms to illuminate their path as they walked, until they reached the shed where the owls generally liked to perch - or owl, as it turned out.
Bill swallowed his disappointment. Though he liked Pigwidgeon, the little owl would not be his first choice. But he would have to do; poor old Errol was no longer around, and there were no others in sight.
Holding out the owl treat, Bill called him down. Instead of flying to him, however, Pig fluttered around Buffy, obviously excited by the chance to show off in front of the stranger. And impress, he did, darting around Buffy as he performed a variety of aerial tricks.
The little prat didn't stop until he drew a laugh from her. Only then, having deemed her admiration sufficient, did he land on the lower edge of the roof.
"Are you done showing off?" Bill asked dryly.
Pig clicked his beak in response.
Shaking his head, Bill stepped forward and attached the letter to Pig's leg. "This is for the head of the Devon Coven," he said, as he handed over the treat.
Pig quickly snapped it up, and with another click of his beak, flew into the night sky - never once acknowledging the way he listed to the side from the weight of the parchment. Bill swore the little bird thought he was an eagle.
Next to him, Buffy stifled her laughter. "So that little fluffball will really deliver the message?"
"And do a fair bit of preening afterward," Bill admitted.
"Well, your way has ridiculous amounts of cuteness on its side," she said. "But hello, inefficiency. A phone call or email would be so much faster."
Bill shrugged. He wasn't going to argue, particularly since he had no experience with either. Instead, he started to head back to the house. After the first few steps, however, he got the distinct impression that Buffy wasn't quite ready to go back yet; impulsively he decided to take a more circuitous route back.
Almost immediately, he regretted his decision.
On the way down to the shed, he had managed to keep Buffy on his right. Now on the way back, however, she insisted on walking on his left, where his scars were on full display. She never said anything outright; she simply outmaneuvered him whenever he tried to fix it until he finally gave up altogether. Instead, he refocused his energy, pointing out various landmarks around the Burrow and the childhood stories associated with them along the way.
Though she seemed to enjoy the tales, particularly the kinds of trouble he and his brothers used to get into, her expression grew increasingly pensive as they drew closer to the back door until finally she stopped altogether.
"Did Hermione tell you about her theory?" she quietly asked.
Bill nodded. "To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of it. It seems sound, and Hermione is rarely wrong, but there are just so many unknowns."
Buffy bit her lip. "I need to know if she's right, though. Could I stay out here for a little while?" she asked.
"Of course," Bill replied. Then he paused. "I'll keep the hounds at bay inside for you as well."
This made Buffy grin. "Your mother is very sweet. It's been awhile since someone has taken care of me like that. It's… really nice. A little overwhelming in the way that I need to take a breather every now and then, but really nice."
It struck Bill how sad that was, that she didn't have anyone like that, and how easy it was to take his own family for granted. It was not the time to mull it over, though, not when she was standing less than an arm's length away.
"So I'll leave you to it, then," he said, gesturing to the garden around him.
He fully intended to leave, but as he looked around, he realized that there was nothing there but overgrown grass; not at all ideal for what she probably wanted to do. Frowning, he pulled out his wand and cleared out an area for her before he started to go.
He turned back when she called his name.
"Bill?" she said. "I… thank you."
It was said honestly and sincerely. Bill got the distinct impression that it was for more than a few illumination charms, too. Before he could respond, however, she turned away from him.
Bill watched Buffy through the kitchen window as she went through a series of complicated movements, ones that clearly required strength, stamina, and flexibility. He felt like a bit of a creep watching her, but honestly, she had been out there for a good thirty minutes and he was getting worried, particularly since the look on her face told him it wasn't going well.
"I still can't believe that little bit of a thing is a Vampire Slayer," Charlie said from behind him.
Something in his brother's tone made Bill look at him. Charlie barely noticed; his eyes were glued on Buffy.
Bill could admit it. He didn't like the way his brother was looking at her. Bill had worked so hard to gain her trust; he didn't want it ruined because Charlie couldn't keep his leering to a minimum.
There was no excuse for the growl that emanated from him, however.
Charlie gave a start of surprise, taking half a step back in the process. In the other room, he heard his parents gasp.
"I'm so sorry," Bill said hoarsely, completely mortified.
Charlie quickly shook it off, returning to his normal cheerful self. "I know you're taking her well being very seriously, but this big brother routine is a bit much, don't you think?"
"Big-" Bill spluttered, but Charlie was already sauntering toward the stairs until he was out of sight.
Bill scowled. If he hadn't been in a foul mood before, he was certainly in one now, and he struggled to get ahold of his temper.
It was made much easier a few minutes later when Harry Potter stepped out of the Floo. The poor bastard had the most pitiful expression on his face, it was next to impossible to stay angry.
"Bill, I don't know what else I can say, except I'm sorry," Harry said.
Bill waved him off. "There's been enough of that. Let's just figure out how to catch the bastard, eh?"
Harry nodded. "It's the least I can do," he said with a grim smile. "I've already begun monitoring all unusual reports, both with the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. I'll also see what I can do within the Ministry, but I'm afraid that won't be much, not without any kind of proof that he's back. You're sure you don't have anything I could use?"
"Aside from Greyback attacking me multiple times?" Bill retorted, admittedly a bit petulantly. He knew it wasn't Harry's fault, though, so he added in a much calmer tones, "No, there's nothing, nothing that the Ministry would accept at least. Not even a sighting for the a Pensieve."
Harry clapped a hand on Bill's shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. Greyback can't maintain this level of secrecy for long. It's not in his nature," he said. He looked out that window. "Is that her? The Vampire Slayer? I'd love to meet her, but it's probably best I don't. Officially, I don't know she's even here. Oh, and look, she's heading in. I'll take that as my cue to leave. I'll be in touch, though."
Harry quickly walked over to the Floo and threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace. He disappeared just as Buffy walked into the house. She looked completely knackered as she collapsed in one of the kitchen's chairs.
Bill's mother was in the kitchen an instant later. By the way she moved, a veritable whirlwind between the stove and the pantry, he could only imagine that she had waited for this moment, carefully planning what she would do the moment Buffy returned to the house. Faster than Bill could blink, his mother had a glass of pumpkin juice and some biscuits ready, which Buffy gratefully accepted.
Bill went to sit next to her, but before he could, Hermione swooped in.
"Hi, Buffy, I know it's late, but… I need to talk to you. There are rumors running around the Ministry that there are now multiple slayers in existence," she said.
Bill gave a start at this bit of information. As far as he knew, there was only ever one active Slayer at a time. By the way his mother dropped the spoon she was levitating, he knew that was what she had thought, too.
Buffy obviously was caught off guard as well. Whiter than a ghost, she looked ready to bolt.
Realizing her potential blunder, Hermione frantically tried to salvage the situation.
"It's just a rumor, mind you, one that I feel absolutely no obligation to substantiate, the circumstances being what they are. I only meant, that is to say… oh dear," she fretted. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. "Regardless of what the situation is or isn't, it has brought the Accord between us to my attention-"
"The what?" Buffy interrupted.
If Hermione was surprised, she didn't show it. "The Roanoke-Grenville Accord of 1586. Nasty business that was. Essentially, a wizard in the Roanoke colony fell madly in love with a slayer and turned her into a white doe when she didn't return his feelings. This infuriated the Watcher's Council, understandably. In order to prevent a war, the Accord was struck, making it forbidden for any wizard to perform magic on a slayer," she explained. "Personally, I believe the Ministry jumped at the opportunity. They prefer things to be black and white, and they simply do not know how to handle anyone who is magical in their own right yet not a witch or wizard, the arrogant old goats."
Bill saw the way Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but said nothing as Hermione continued on.
"One of the first things I'd like to do after my leave is work on re-establishing Wizard/Slayer relations," she said, and though this elicited another reaction from his mother, she resolutely ignored it. "It's absolute rubbish that we can no longer interact all because of one unscrupulous and rather selfish man. That is, if it's something you and yours would be interested in exploring…"
"We might," Buffy said cautiously. Then she smiled. "As long as you're at the table when we do."
Hermione beamed back at her. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. Then, perhaps because she felt she and Buffy were on good terms or perhaps because she simply couldn't stop herself, she added, "I was also hoping I might be able to look at your sword. You don't even have to move. I can retrieve it from your room myself and take it-"
"No," Buffy cut in, rather forcefully.
Hermione's face fell. "Oh, of course. I understand."
Buffy shook her head. "No, you don't," she insisted, before slapping her hand to her forehead. "Apparently, it's my turn to get whacked with the tact stick. Yes, you can look at it, but I don't want anyone else to touch it, especially you. We have no idea what it could do, and I don't want you getting hurt."
Before anyone could object, she pushed herself to her feet and went upstairs. She was back a few moments later with her sword, which she gently laid on the kitchen table.
Bill had never seen a pregnant woman move so quickly. Hermione was there in front of the sword before he could blink, oohing and aahing over the design and workmanship.
"Look at the runes… I've got to copy them down… and a lightning bolt on the other side… what are the chances… oh my…"
"Her name's Winnie," Buffy explained. Then she grimaced. "Well, actually it's not. That's what I call her. Willow said it's Car… Car winches? Car window? That's not right, but Carwinnie just sounds wrong-"
"Do you mean Carnwennan," Hermione interrupted, her face noticeably paler.
Buffy brightened. "Yep, that's it! And geez, is there anything you guys don't know..."
She trailed off when she noticed Hermione was practically hyperventilating. Bill, Buffy, and Mrs. Weasley all made a motion toward her when she waved them off.
"This is incredible," she breathed. "Carnwennan was given to King Arthur, possibly by Merlin himself, which he used to kill the Black Hag."
Bill looked at the sword in awe, and he saw his mother do the same.
"That's of the good, right? You guys are big on Merlin and not on hags?" Buffy asked, unsure of their reactions.
Bill laughed incredulously. "Yes, it's a very good thing. Incredible, in fact. Imagine, a relic of Merlin's, here…" he marveled. "You're a tough one to keep up with."
Buffy shrugged. "You haven't done too bad a job."
Like all her compliments to him were, it was said begrudgingly, and Bill took it in the spirit in which it was meant.
His mother and Hermione did not. They quite obviously exchanged looks with one another, though neither one of them dared look at him. The only saving grace was that Buffy had no idea what she had walked into. Still Bill felt incredibly uncomfortable.
"I, ah, I need to take care of something. I'll be back in a bit," he announced before he practically sprinted from the room.
Bill spent a good fifteen minutes getting cleaned up. During that time, he heard his parents go to bed, for which he was glad. The past 24 hours had taken a toll on everyone, and it was only just beginning.
When he was done, he went back downstairs to join the girls.
Apparently, Charlie had the same idea. Bill found him sitting on the sofa in the living room next to Buffy, as the two of them pored over a map of Sweden, no doubt trying to triangulate where they - and the dragon - had been.
Bill's initial reaction was to join them, but he immediately squashed that impulse. He wasn't needed there. From what he could hear, Buffy was providing details about the layout of the forest he didn't remember.
Charlie had been right. He was being ridiculously overprotective, and he had no right to be. Buffy was a big girl, one who could take care of herself and then some. And she didn't look put off by Charlie's attention in the slightest.
Needing something to do, he grabbed a biscuit off the counter and sat down next to Hermione, who was still at the kitchen table studying the sword. In addition, she now had an armada of books around her, and she was currently flipping furiously through the pages of one particularly large text.
"Find anything useful?" he asked between bites.
Hermione shook her head. "Not particularly."
Since it was obvious she wanted to continue with her research, Bill let her be and focused on his food. Just as he was taking the last few bites, a flutter of movement just outside the window caught his eye.
It was an owl; not one of theirs, but a gorgeous eagle owl, looking at Hermione expectantly.
Not wanting to interrupt her, Bill quickly went outside, grabbing a treat for the bird on the way. He found the owl sitting on a tree branch a few meters from the house, a letter attached to its leg.
Bill untied the letter and held out a treat to the owl. The little bugger ignored it, however, and let out a loud hoot, one that sounded almost disdainful, before it flew away without so much as a backward glance.
Scowling, Bill returned to the house and handed the letter to Hermione.
"Courtesy of the most obnoxious owl ever," he said.
Still immersed in her book, she grabbed the letter and shoved it in her pocket without a single glance. "Work related, no doubt," she said distractedly.
"They're still contacting you, even though you're on leave?" Bill asked in surprise.
"Yes, I prefer it actually," she replied. Then she froze and looked up. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to Ron when he comes home from the joke shop tonight?"
Because she was doing him an enormous favor, Bill agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. "Alright. Is this a problem?" he asked cautiously.
Hermione made a face. "For him. He's already having difficulty accepting the fact that I have no plans to quit my job and stay home after the baby is born. I simply cannot do that, though. I've been bored out of mind just these past few months."
Bill was surprised. He knew his mother's thoughts on the subject, but he had no idea that Ron shared them as well. Personally, Bill agreed with Hermione. Someone like her would go bonkers staying at home.
Before he could think of what to say - something that wouldn't put him in the middle - Buffy let out a particularly large laugh.
Hermione seized the opportunity to change the subject. "They seem to be getting on well enough," she commented.
Bill grunted by way of reply and sat back down. Because he could see the questions brewing in his sister-in-law's mind, he cut her off at the pass the best way he knew how.
"Can I help at all? It's been awhile since I've tried my hand at runes, but I'm not too shabby at cross-referencing and the like."
Just as he suspected, Hermione eagerly accepted his help. Soon they both were absorbed in the tomes around them, so much so that Bill only half heard Buffy and Charlie's conversation; such as when he complimented her on her quick thinking around the dragon, or when she expressed her admiration in his ability to work with the beasts on a daily basis, or when he then in turn invited her to visit the dragon reserve.
And he got no satisfaction whatsoever when he interrupted them a short while later upon Pig's return, all but bringing Charlie and Buffy's little study group to a screeching halt.
Everyone went to bed soon after the letter arrived, which granted Buffy and him entry to the coven first thing in the morning. Still, sleep eluded Bill that night; he tossed and turned in his bed until he finally gave up and went downstairs into the kitchen.
Something Harry had said stuck in his mind. It wasn't in Greyback's nature to show restraint of any kind. Yet, for as much trouble as he had caused, the werewolf hadn't shown himself once. What's more, his attacks had been methodical and well orchestrated.
It made Greyback infinitely more dangerous and difficult to predict. It also made Bill wonder what the bastard's plan could be, that he would curb his natural instincts to the point where it was probably painful, only finding release in moments like his savagery with the Graphorn.
It was unsettling, to say the least.
Feeling more than a little frustration, Bill went to get a glass of water. As he stood over the sink, he glanced out the little window there and received a shock.
In the recent excitement, the days and nights had blurred and he had foolishly lost track of the moon, and it had not yet risen when he and Buffy had been out earlier in evening. Now, however, there was no ignoring it; for though it wasn't quite full, it would be in just a handful of days.
Not only did it explain some of the uneasiness he had been feeling lately, but it also gave him his first real clue on what was to come.
Greyback wouldn't be able to curtail his instincts under the full moon. More importantly, Bill was willing to bet he had no intention of trying.
"Bill?"
Startled, Bill turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway.
"What are you doing awake?" he asked.
Hermione sighed. "Taking my one hundredth trip to the loo, thank you very much. I saw the light on down here and thought it might be you."
Though he needed to talk to his family about this all, it could wait until morning, so he simply shrugged his shoulder and said, "Can't sleep."
Hermione padded over to him. "I'm sure you have a lot on your mind," she replied. "I'm glad that you're up, though. I wanted to give you something before you left tomorrow."
She produced a small package wrapped in brown paper. Curious, Bill took it from her and opened it. He let out a laugh when he saw the book inside.
It was entitled American Muggle 2: A Vexing and Perplexing Mystery.
"I got it soon after we talked the last time," she confessed. "Of course, I realized within five minutes of speaking with Buffy that it's complete rubbish."
Bill grinned. "I don't know whether the fault lies with the book, or whether Buffy simply defies expectations."
"She does seem to do that, in a variety of ways," Hermione replied slyly. Before Bill could object to her implication, she was speaking again. "Anyway, though I realize it's essentially useless, I thought I'd still give it to you, if for nothing else but a bit of fun. It looks like we may need it in coming days."
Bill couldn't deny the truth in her statement; still, he didn't want to end the night on such a dire note.
"Thank you for the book," he said sincerely, ruffling the top of her head affectionately.
Hermione swatted his hand away with a scowl. "Please, all these pregnancy hormones are making my hair big enough as it is. I'm convinced I'll wake up one day and find owls nesting in it," she grumbled. She glared at Bill when he laughed. "Well, I know you have a big day tomorrow, so I'll leave you alone. Do try to get some sleep, though."
With that she walked back upstairs.
A smile still on his face, Bill put his glass away and headed for bed. As he turned to leave the kitchen, however, the moon caught his eye, a pale, cold reminder that the clock was ticking.
A/N: I don't usually do this but… Buffy/Bill pairing - yea or nay?