Sirius Black was pouting. Alright, it was a bit beneath a grown man, but
in this case he felt justified. After all, it was all Snape's fault. The
man was just completely unreasonable. You would think he could be adult
about this whole living together thing, but—
"But" he thought to himself, "I'm the one pouting like a four year old. And over a girl no less. Then again, what a girl!"
Sirius took a deep breath and tried to place a smile on his face. Perhaps he'd been going about this the wrong way. There was a beautiful girl interested in him, or at least he figured that's what the series of numbers she'd written out for him implied. She's certainly seemed open enough to his company when she taught him the muggle form of dancing, a recreation he sincerely doubted Dumbledore would allow at the school any time soon. Now, he just needed a little help following up on this. And Snape couldn't refuse that help forever.
He'd escaped Azkaban after all. How hard could it be to get Severus Snape to explain what a phone number was and what to do with it?
With that in mind Sirius wandered into the kitchen where the greasy git was brewing something on the refrigerator, or was that contraption called a stove? He never could keep the bloody things straight. Mostly because he didn't bother. After living on the run for so long it was quite easy, and less intimidating, to just ignore the conveniences this place offered.
"So, Snape, I figure that as long as we absolutely must endure each other we should, you know, try to be civil. I mean really we are each other's only connection to our own world, so maybe—"
"No." Snape hissed, never taking his eyes off the simmering cauldron. And why the hell was he cooking muggle food in a cauldron anyway? Sirius doubted that was the appropriate tool for the job.
"No what?"
"No, I will not tell you how to contact that little muggle girl, a girl barely old enough to have finished school. No, I do not want to be civil with you, and no, we cannot just get along. Ever."
"Now listen you slimy bastard, I didn't say we should get along. I don't like you, I don't—"
"You would say anything, including that, if it meant I would get you in touch with your little strumpet, but I am not some fool to be blinded by a friendly grin. I know you, Black. And if I can make your life even a pinch less pleasant I will. Am I clear?"
"Yes." Black said before he stormed out of the room.
It was time to send a letter to Harry.
***
Willow looked up from her laptop as Buffy walked in, threw an axe in the corner, and flopped on the bed. She looked exhausted.
"Bad night slaying?"
"Busy at least. I don't suppose you want to blow off that paper and go out for some fun?" Buffy said with a tired grin.
"Not so much with the fun at," Willow glanced at the clock, "two thirty in the morning, but I did pick up some double chocolate ice cream on my way home. It's all yours if you want it."
Buffy bounced off the bed and dashed over to the mini-fridge. "You, Wills, are my god. Have I mentioned that recently?"
"Well, yeah, in that you just said it and all." Willow sighed as she returned to her paper. "And have I mentioned that I hate comparative lit classes? I mean really, with all the important stuff going on in the world who cares what thematic elements Jane Austin's work share with Tolkien's lesser known novels?"
"Um, not me, but I'm guessing you knew that."
Willow sighed and closed her computer. "I need a break. Is there an apocalypse or something that needs research?"
Buffy chuckled around the spoon in her mouth. "Only you would call that a study break, but no. All's quiet on the big bad front. Just lots of little bads running around. And speaking of bads, did—"
Willow leaned against her headboard and shut her eyes. She hated to disappoint her friend. "Nope. No one with a funny name called. Sorry."
Buffy sighed and plopped at the foot of Willow's bed. "It's okay." She muttered as she plucked at fuzz on the comforter. "He wasn't that cute anyway, and he was kind of old, and—"
"And you really wanted him to call, huh?" Willow said as she moved to give Buffy a hug.
"I did. I mean he seemed interested and all, and he was really funny when I taught him to dance. What kind of guy goes to a club and can't dance?"
"Xander." Willow said matter-of-factly. Which caused Buffy to start giggling.
"Thanks, Willow. I needed that. I think I'm going to hop in the shower and just get over all this. He isn't worth being all mopey-girl over."
"That's the spirit, Buffy. I'll see you in the morning. I'm going to turn in."
"Good night." Buffy said as she walked out the door.
The minute the blond had left Willow pulled out a map and started muttering an incantation. Soon there was a single point of light on the map and Willow wrote down the address shown.
"Tomorrow, Sirius Black, you and I are going to have a chat about the importance of coffee."
"But" he thought to himself, "I'm the one pouting like a four year old. And over a girl no less. Then again, what a girl!"
Sirius took a deep breath and tried to place a smile on his face. Perhaps he'd been going about this the wrong way. There was a beautiful girl interested in him, or at least he figured that's what the series of numbers she'd written out for him implied. She's certainly seemed open enough to his company when she taught him the muggle form of dancing, a recreation he sincerely doubted Dumbledore would allow at the school any time soon. Now, he just needed a little help following up on this. And Snape couldn't refuse that help forever.
He'd escaped Azkaban after all. How hard could it be to get Severus Snape to explain what a phone number was and what to do with it?
With that in mind Sirius wandered into the kitchen where the greasy git was brewing something on the refrigerator, or was that contraption called a stove? He never could keep the bloody things straight. Mostly because he didn't bother. After living on the run for so long it was quite easy, and less intimidating, to just ignore the conveniences this place offered.
"So, Snape, I figure that as long as we absolutely must endure each other we should, you know, try to be civil. I mean really we are each other's only connection to our own world, so maybe—"
"No." Snape hissed, never taking his eyes off the simmering cauldron. And why the hell was he cooking muggle food in a cauldron anyway? Sirius doubted that was the appropriate tool for the job.
"No what?"
"No, I will not tell you how to contact that little muggle girl, a girl barely old enough to have finished school. No, I do not want to be civil with you, and no, we cannot just get along. Ever."
"Now listen you slimy bastard, I didn't say we should get along. I don't like you, I don't—"
"You would say anything, including that, if it meant I would get you in touch with your little strumpet, but I am not some fool to be blinded by a friendly grin. I know you, Black. And if I can make your life even a pinch less pleasant I will. Am I clear?"
"Yes." Black said before he stormed out of the room.
It was time to send a letter to Harry.
***
Willow looked up from her laptop as Buffy walked in, threw an axe in the corner, and flopped on the bed. She looked exhausted.
"Bad night slaying?"
"Busy at least. I don't suppose you want to blow off that paper and go out for some fun?" Buffy said with a tired grin.
"Not so much with the fun at," Willow glanced at the clock, "two thirty in the morning, but I did pick up some double chocolate ice cream on my way home. It's all yours if you want it."
Buffy bounced off the bed and dashed over to the mini-fridge. "You, Wills, are my god. Have I mentioned that recently?"
"Well, yeah, in that you just said it and all." Willow sighed as she returned to her paper. "And have I mentioned that I hate comparative lit classes? I mean really, with all the important stuff going on in the world who cares what thematic elements Jane Austin's work share with Tolkien's lesser known novels?"
"Um, not me, but I'm guessing you knew that."
Willow sighed and closed her computer. "I need a break. Is there an apocalypse or something that needs research?"
Buffy chuckled around the spoon in her mouth. "Only you would call that a study break, but no. All's quiet on the big bad front. Just lots of little bads running around. And speaking of bads, did—"
Willow leaned against her headboard and shut her eyes. She hated to disappoint her friend. "Nope. No one with a funny name called. Sorry."
Buffy sighed and plopped at the foot of Willow's bed. "It's okay." She muttered as she plucked at fuzz on the comforter. "He wasn't that cute anyway, and he was kind of old, and—"
"And you really wanted him to call, huh?" Willow said as she moved to give Buffy a hug.
"I did. I mean he seemed interested and all, and he was really funny when I taught him to dance. What kind of guy goes to a club and can't dance?"
"Xander." Willow said matter-of-factly. Which caused Buffy to start giggling.
"Thanks, Willow. I needed that. I think I'm going to hop in the shower and just get over all this. He isn't worth being all mopey-girl over."
"That's the spirit, Buffy. I'll see you in the morning. I'm going to turn in."
"Good night." Buffy said as she walked out the door.
The minute the blond had left Willow pulled out a map and started muttering an incantation. Soon there was a single point of light on the map and Willow wrote down the address shown.
"Tomorrow, Sirius Black, you and I are going to have a chat about the importance of coffee."
