Draco Malfoy could see the sparks flying in the library from the roof.
"You should be in the common room with the others, Mr. Malfoy," the familiar voice called from the stairwell. "You know how I dislike taking points from Slytherin students for stupid infractions."
Lost in thought, Malfoy didn't answer Snape immediately. He had missed seeing the battle, trapped inside by Snape's presence in the common room. The only action he had seen was a quick trip through the fireplace to California, which, he admitted to himself, had been unusual enough. He had been very surprised to see nine people waiting for them instead of three, and the justification that that Cordelia woman had a vision about it was less than settling. But the string of odd occurrences hadn't brought him out here.
No, it was the being left out of the fight that had Draco angry as hell and needing the night air to cool off. Especially when he could have had a crack at his father …
"Draco?" Snape said.
"Sorry, Professor," Malfoy said, gathering his winter cloak from the ground. The night had less of a chill than he expected, one of the consequences of the rising spring. "I just needed some time to think."
"I understand," Snape said, exiting the stairwell. He knew how frustrated Malfoy must feel; he felt it himself. "Our position was not an easy one."
Draco watched the blank expression on Snape's face and realized that the blankness was what passed for sympathy from him.
"Might I ask … never mind," Draco said, realizing that the Potions Master was in a similarly foul mood and thus not inclined to discuss anything.
Snape understood immediately what Draco wanted to know, but he was not a man who answered such questions very easily, even if there positions were similar. On the other hand, he genuinely liked Draco, even moreso now that he was committing himself to opposing Voldemort. If he could help with that commitment …
"Go ahead. Ask."
"I'm just wondering what I should do next. It's likely to be an ugly scene when I arrive home for the summer holidays, assuming my father isn't captured or dead. I don't know quite how to handle the fact that he's a murderous crackpot, is what I'm saying," he finished softly. "I don't know how to pretend I don't know that about him."
"And you're not one, that's what you're saying as well."
"Hell no," Draco said instantly.
"Tell me, Draco," Snape asked, his dark eyes boring into the boy's eyes, "what purpose would pretending anything serve? What do you wish to accomplish with that deception?"
"It's not wishing to do something, so much as it is that I know they must be stopped. My father, Pettigrew, Voldemort. All of them. They're …" A sharp bang from the library caused him to jump back, but Snape stood motionless and unruffled. "Cor, they're havin' a time." He looked Snape in the eye. It was good to talk with someone about this, someone who understood completely. "I guess, Professor, the problem is simply how do I put the most hurt on them without becoming the victim of the week."
"It could be awkward to outright oppose your father," Snape agreed. He paused, a thought percolating in his brain that almost garnered an evil smile. "He was going to initiate you as a Death Eater this summer, was he not?"
"Yes," Malfoy said disgustedly. He had been looking forward to it, too. As if it was some sort of kid's game.
"I doubt he will, after the events of this year," Snape said. Horror flashed on Malfoy's face. "I mean the ones where he knows of your resistance, of course, not last night's events. Halloween, and the night of the attack on Cansbury."
Relieved, Malfoy nodded his understanding.
"Tell me, Draco, what will happen upon your return home?"
"I expect he'll beat me within an inch of my life," Draco answered in an even voice. "But … after that, I assume nothing out of the ordinary. Like you said, he doesn't know about the things I've done to muck up his plans directly. You could put it all on trying to stay alive. Even the night the Death Eaters stormed the castle, the only ones who know of me doing anything have been incarcerated."
"Mmmm … yes," Snape mumbled, apparently still deep in thought. Then he inspected Draco with eyes as hard as diamonds. "Answer me this: Could you tolerate being beaten within an inch of your life? If it meant that afterwards, we could mold you into the type of man he wants?"
"I told you …" Draco said indignantly. Snape didn't let him finish.
"In appearance, only, Draco. In appearance, only. If we can convince him of your fealty, it would go a long way towards restoring you to a trusted position and access to a great deal of inside information, would it not?"
The hallway lit up like day when the energy flashed. In a thoroughly un-British moment of abandon, Giles and Wesley burst through the door to see what had happened.
Except for the dusted chair and shattered lamp from earlier, everything stood in perfect order. Tara, breathing heavy and eyes closed, sat cross-legged at her point of the star. Willow lay flat on her back, her own breath coming in great heaving gasps beneath damp strings of red hair. McGonagall had Ginny's burnt hand in her own, examining the damage while Hermione looked on with concern.
"Is everything alright?" Giles asked, taking in the minor damage and then glancing at Jess. The auror sat in the middle of the star, a circle of fine black soot spread around her.
"Dandy, Watcher. Yourself?" Jess asked playfully. The spell had left her euphoric, a combination adrenaline rush/giddy ecstacy that was washing over her in waves.
Then she remembered Tara.
In an instant, she was out of her seat and kneeling at the blonde witch's side.
"Hey, Tara? Tara, are you in there?"
The blonde witch slowly opened her eyes. The pupils remained white. Her voice emerged unnaturally low.
"Still here. The-the p-power … so i-intense …"
"The spell's over, hon. It worked. I'm totally dark magic free."
"G-good," Tara said genuinely. She closed her eyes again and took several deep breaths. The magic was coursing through her and it wouldn't go away, lingering like the scary rush from riding a roller coaster.
"Are you …"
"I'm … okay," she breathed. "M-magic rush b-but no permanent damage, thanks to some q-quick th-thinking. Thank you so much," she said to Ginny and Hermione.
"You're welcome," Hermione said for both of them.
"Uhhhh…" Willow moaned from the floor, where she lay partially passed out. Wesley hurried over and checked her pulse, which was strong. "She seems alright, Giles. Just a bit shaken, I think. And tired, of course."
"We need to get Ginny to Madame Pomfrey," McGonagall said. "This burn isn't serious, but it must hurt like the devil." Ginny nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.
"Burn?" Giles asked. "From what?" McGonagall explained about the Eye and the succession of spells. "Dear lord. By all means take her there. We'll see to the girls here."
Hermione, McGonagall, and Ginny rose to leave. Just as they reached the door, Jess called out.
"Ginny?
"Yeah?"
"My thanks, too. "
"You're welcome," Ginny squeezed out through the pain. McGonagall led them off to the infirmary.
"Think they'll pull it off?"
Spike looked up in surprise. They had been standing guard in the infirmary for two solid hours, and these were Buffy's first words to him. She had completely avoided his questions and looks, settling instead into uncomfortable silence.
"Reckon they will. Red and Glinda can handle themselves."
"I hope they aren't in too much danger."
"Some," Spike allowed. "But they don't have a lot o' choice, do they?"
"Love makes you do the wacky," she breathed quietly.
"Tell me about it," he grumbled. They both went silent for a time, watching the still forms of Grey and Dumbledore.
"Buffy?"
She raised an eyebrow at the use of her name, but Spike wasn't looking her way. He was staring off into the night outside the window.
"Thought you should know I'm not headed for Sunnyhell when school's out."
"No?" She couldn't quite hide the pain and anger that flared in her mind. Or the disappointment that she desperately didn't want to feel.
"No." Spike felt a surge of joy as he heard her tone, but suppressed it. Best if she gets no answers from you, you nancy-boy, he chided himself.
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. It only made her more angry. "Why not? I know you don't have anything better to do."
"I do, actually, Slayer. Important things. Bloody wacky things," he added under his breath.
"What the hell is that …" The conversation was cut short as Hermione, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall came through the door. Instead of finishing her question, Buffy simply glared at Spike.
He stared back impassively, steeling himself against the torrent of emotions whirling in his head.
"… need to run down to Snape's dungeon and grab some of the ingredients. Then we can fix him," Willow heard someone say. The room was a fuzzy blur of colors and motion, and she quickly shut her eyes again. The comforting feel of Giles' wool sweater swallowed the back of her head as she lay on the floor listening.
"Are you certain that you wouldn't prefer to prepare a bit more thoroughly?" English voice, not Giles. Not Hogwarts … must be Wesley, Willow concluded.
"Sorry … it's Wesley, yeah? Sorry, Wesley. We have no time for that. I can do it – Dumbledore was very precise in his instruction." Wow, she sounds confident. That's very much of the good.
"Tara," Giles said, his voice obviously concerned, "will you be able to assist her? I don't think Willow is any shape to contribute."
Oh, thanks, Giles. Give me a minute, I'll be … "Uhhh…" Willow moaned again as a wave of nausea hit her. She felt a soft hand on her own, then the low rumble of chanting, and then …
"She's asleep now," Tara said, removing her hand from Willow's. "I don't know how she was keeping herself awake, w-with the amount of energy she's used today."
"How about you, my dear?" Giles asked. "You've expended a great deal yourself, and I imagine that episode with the Eye … well, you must be exhausted."
Tara shook her head. "I-I'm tired, but not too bad. Most of the energy that went th-through the-the Eye came from the others. It only started sucking energy from me when they stopped. I-I don't think w-we can use it on Grey's healing spell, though," she added, giving Jess an apologetic glance.
"No?"
"No. I th-think it was meant to be used by multiple sources or s-something … I'm n-n-not sure. But one p-person shouldn't use it." She shivered, recalling the grasping feel of it pulling the magic from her reluctant body. If Ginny hadn't stopped her… "I-I think it could be really dangerous."
"So what will you do to power the spell?" Wesley interjected, speaking to Jess directly. She mentally turned the question over a few times before answering.
"I guess I'll try it alone." Before they could ask the questions that appeared on their faces, she held up a hand. "Before you tell me it won't work, think of this – if I do it right, but don't have enough power, it'll fizzle an' won't work. But it shouldn't harm him. While I do that, you lot can use your big brains and find a way for us to up the voltage if we have to. Does that make sense?"
"I suppose," Giles offered cautiously. The woman seemed confident of her abilities in a far less predatory way than before they had freed her. Clearly, she would avoid a course of action that would injure Grey; she would be far more aggressive in protecting him than Giles himself would, for obvious reasons. At least, that was the theory they had proceeded on. And Grey's life, the Watcher reminded himself, now hung on whether the theory had been correct.
Jess watched the thoughts play across the Watcher's face and knew he was deciding how much they could trust her.
"Let's make one thing real clear, Mr. Giles: Grey might be with Willow now, but he's still my partner. I've known him longer than any of you. We've been through a lot together, and he trusts my judgment. The past year notwithstanding." Giles thought he heard her voice shake slightly on the last part. "I'm tellin' you straight out, this won't hurt him if the only problem is that I don't have the power."
She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw the haunted look in her eyes.
"I still love him. I always did. Even when that evil son of a bitch turned me into a sordid female version of him, I loved Grey like I always had." She paused as tears came into her eyes and her throat started to close. It was a full minute before she could speak again.
"You can't imagine the things I did to him. But he saved me anyway. He didn't let go, and he wouldn't have, if he hadn't been hurt." Her voice turned defiant, and Giles remembered in that moment that she had been an outstanding auror for reasons that had little to do with her magical skill.
"It doesn't matter. I'm doing it anyway, and if you try and stop me, you won't be able to."
"I believe you're right," Giles said, "if I were to try. But I won't," he finished after a pause, "and we had best hurry if we're to prevent him from slipping away."