Don't expect me to update this soon normally, I've decided to take the time to answer my reviews, don't expect this as a normal practice either.  If anyone knows the address to Buffy's house, please feel free to correct me.

*: Maybe…I don't know.

Plato:  I'm glad you think so.

smile7499:  Thank you.  I understand what you are saying about AUs, but it was the only way I could get this plot to work.

Mountain William:  Thanks.

Meaghan:  I'm not against Buffy/Angel. (Actually, I'm a closet BA shipper.)  I just don't want people nagging me to make it either him or Spike, as I'm not sure whether I want to do romance.  There will be very minimal appearances from the rest of the characters from either show.

poppie:  I thought of that before hand, actually.  You'll see what I have worked out, although it is a little Deus Ex Machina if I think about it.

WhiteWolf 3:  Thank you.

Lady Maria:  Thanks.  I know, it's so refreshing, isn't it.  Also, Willow doesn't need help for her magic problem.  I was a little sick and tired of all the clichés, even though I believe that a good author can make any cliché amazing.  I was afraid people wouldn't read this because there were so many other HP crossovers out there and would think it's something that it's not.

X-Lander:  You shall find out soon.  Hopefully.

Ginger:  Thanks.  Is this soon enough for you?

****

Buffy stared at the letter for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour.  After getting over her fear, she had let the owl in and taken the letter.  The owl in question was very old and seemed to be quite tired, so she had let it sleep in the kitchen, where it was still sleeping.  She had deposited the letter on the kitchen counter hastily before running off to work. 

            When she had returned, the letter was still there.  When she had finished eating, it was still there.  While she was watching TV, it was still there.  She had hoped, Buffy realized, that, somehow, the letter would disappear.  Glancing at the letter again, she sighed as she read the address again, hoping that there had been some sort of mistake.  No matter how many times she looked, it still read:

Joyce Summers

1640 Revello Drive

Sunnydale CA, USA.

            Buffy wanted so much to forget about her past and that world, she hadn't even informed her mother's friends of her death.  That decision was coming back to haunt her now.    Breaking her eyes away from the address, Buffy looked out the window.  The sun's setting.  I should probably patrol.  She didn't move.  When she came back, the letter would still be there.  Come on Buffy, she told herself, it can't be harder than dusting a vamp.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy reached out trembling hands to take the letter.  Her fingers fumbled with the letter and she ended up ripping the string holding it closed in half in her frustration.  Shaking, she laid the parchment down flat on the table, smoothing it as if it were an old and sacred artifact.  Remembering to breath, she slowly read the letter.

                        Dear Joyce,

           

I realize that, after the accident, you only wanted us to contact you if it was urgent.  I assure you, it is.  Things have happened recently that force me to ask this of you.  Please, it is very important.  It is dangerous now, and I need Ron to stay with you until school starts this fall.  Please, as one mother to another, tell me how I can reach you.  I am in your debt.

                                                                                    Your Friend,

                                                                                    Molly Weasley

            Buffy smiled sadly as she remembered the sacrifices her mother made for her.  She could have continued to live and be active in the other world, but Joyce had opted to do what would be least painful to her daughter.  For that, she was eternally grateful.  Molly's letter sounded urgent and needed a response quickly.  She would have to reply, for her mother's sake.

****

Three days later

            It was a typically crazy day at the Burrow.  Although it was late July, everyone in the house was packing.  What should have been easy was made difficult in a way that only a family of seven could make it.  Percy had finished packing first, and tried to be helpful by assisting Ginny, which only got him yelled at when he insisted she was taking too much underwear.  The twins had tried to sneak in a pile of joke candy into each of their suitcases, but where found out when their sweaters caught on fire.  Bill and Charlie tried to save their mother some stress by cooking lunch.  That resulted in a giant whole where the stove used to be.  Mrs. Weasley was supervising the whole event and was almost at her wits end with what to do.

            Finally, after affirming that everyone was packed, the frazzled mother allowed herself to relax.  Ron, she knew, had already packed and was outside sulking.  She couldn't blame him.  Out of all of the children, he was the one being forced to go off to live with someone he didn't know.  It was safest for Ron, though, that he be in the most unlikely place.  Still, he was hoping that Joyce never replied.

            At that moment, Errol chose to fly through the window and drop in front of Mrs. Weasley, exhausted.  Ron came running after, anxious to hear the contents of the letter.  Surprisingly, all activity stopped as she opened the letter and read.  All eyes were on her as she slowly went white and started shaking.  Quickly, Bill took the letter from her hands and read it aloud:

"Dear Mrs. Weasley,

           

I'm sorry to tell you, but my mother passed away five years ago.  I know this is rude, but could you please tell anyone else who you think should know, I don't really know who would be appropriate.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you when it happened, I just didn't think about it.  I'll hold some sort of memorial service/wake next Friday.  As to your request, I think I can still take Ron in.  I think it will be safe.  Bring him this Friday and we can talk.  I'm sure that, for emergencies, Mom hooked our fireplace up to the Floo Network.

                                                                                                Sincerely,

                                                                                                Buffy Summers."

"What will you do?"  Ron's voice broke the silence.

Collecting herself, Molly answered.  "We'll go."  Turning to Percy, she asked, "Get me some parchment, will you dear?  And a quill."  She had two days to contact a wealth of people, not to mention telling Arthur.  She was worried about leaving Ron with a girl, no woman, who couldn't protect him as Joyce could, but it was the only option she had.  She hoped that Buffy could hide her son.