Knock, knock, knock.
"Buffy, are you awake?" a deep, muffled voice calls, "We're leaving soon."
Groaning, I flick the duvet off my warm body and reluctantly open my eyes. The room is still quite dim, thankfully, and I sleepily rub my eyes before grimacing at the horrible taste in my mouth. Then as my hands wander up to my head, I moan softly at the bird's nest that is my hair. God, this is not of good. And who the heck is at my door at this ungodly hour?
"Coming," I call back scratchily before clearing my throat. As I stumble towards the door, the cool wooden floor waking me up further, I keep one hand in my hair in a vain effort to flatten the mess.
Opening the door, I mumble a good morning to Mr. Weasley.
"Buffy, clean up quickly and have a bite to eat before we go," he says kindly, eyeing my hair with amusement.
I merely nod and stifle a yawn, turning back into the room and grabbing a few pieces of clothing before heading into the shower. Shivering at the cool tiles, I sigh as the warm stream of water hits my face, finally waking me up. The lack of patrolling has thrown my whole body out of whack, and now I feel tired in the morning if I have a late night. As I rinse my hair out, I grin thinking of the plans that Faith and I did last night.
"So, I'll distract the rest of the house," I say, stacking the pieces of paper we used to brainstorm on, "while you corner Sirius."
"Check," Faith agrees, leaning back against her chair and shutting her eyes briefly.
"And you know where to hide the corset?"
"Yup, bottom drawer that he never uses," she responds, her eyes flicking open with slight anticipation.
"Wanna run through the song once more?" I ask with a faint grin. My body clock tells me it's about one in the morning, but already I can feel the exhaustion creeping in.
When Faith suggested she team her seduction act with a song, I was surprised. I never knew she could sing. Then I realised that she didn't really need to...
"Okay," she says, taking a deep breath. I sit back and watch.
"Can you put your hands on my waistline, want your skin up against mine, move my hips to the baseline...let me get mine, you get yours."
Her voice has a sultry sort of quality to it, and as she sings, her head moves slightly to a beat she hears in her head. I can easily imagine her on stage in the Bronze.
"Hang a 'please don't disturb' sign, put my back into a slow grind, sending chills up and down my spine...let me get mine, you get yours."
When she first told me about this song, I raised an eyebrow. Literally. I didn't think she would go anywhere near Christina Aguilera, let alone know one of her songs. Then when she started to sing in that low voice of hers, I understood straight away why she wanted to do it. With her voice dipping like that, Sirius won't stand a chance.
"Come here...don't be shy. I won't bite," she finishes with a murmur and a sly grin.
"Don't let your voice trail off too much," I say with a slightly tired smile, "otherwise he won't hear you."
Faith just rolls her eyes.
Stepping out of the shower refreshed, I frown at the pieces of clothing I randomly picked up while half asleep. I yank on fresh underwear and my jeans, but shake my head at the girly pink top. Walking out with my bra on, I throw open my curtains, letting bright, warm sunlight light the room. Then I rifle through my drawers until I find a green boob tube and pin my hair back with a flowery bandana. After pulling on my worn pair of sneakers and a small bead necklace from Willow, I grab my tan leather jacket and head out.
"Hey B," Faith says at the start of the staircase, "Woke up late too, huh?"
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" I ask, smiling as we walk down together.
She smirks as we continue down the dark corridor, even at this time in the morning, and says, "Hey, it all spawned from your unreleased sexual tension, B. Damn, if I didn't come up with the corset idea."
"I know," I reply with a laugh, "it's one of my better ones."
As we enter the kitchen, the delicious smell of bacon and eggs greets us, and I spot Mrs. Weasley cooking breakfast. I wonder if she ever sleeps.
"Good morning, girls!" she chirps cheerfully, handing us plates piled with food, "Just a little something before you head off."
I eye the 'little something' on my plate; at least four sausages, three strips of bacon, four slices of buttered toast and two eggs. Does she think we're half-starved? I look towards Faith, but she's already seated next to Bill and digging into the food.
"So, you ladies off to the Ministry?" Bill asks after swallowing some food. Sitting down, I chew on a small piece of toast before answering.
"Uh...I think we're going to Diamond Alley first?"
"Diagon Alley, Buffy," Mr. Weasley corrects with a sip of steaming coffee, "the market of wizards."
"And witches," Mrs. Weasley throws in from her place at the stove, with the sound of popping bacon.
"Right," I say, cutting a piece of sausage, "wands then Ministry."
The rest of breakfast passes, and soon we're standing in front of the fireplace in the kitchen. I wonder what we're using as a Portkey this time. That's until Bill steps into the fireplace, grabs a handful of dust from a dangling gold pot and says, "Gringotts Bank, Egypt!" before throwing the dust at his feet. I jump when it explodes in green flames and he disappears in a twirl of bright green. My mouth hangs open as I stare at the fireplace, now black once again.
"It's called Floo," Mr. Weasley explains, looking at both Faith and my shocked faces, "Much easier than Portkey, except for the soot on your clothes."
"You want us to go in there and set ourselves on fire?!" Faith says, disbelieving.
"No, no, dear. It's a magical fire. No burning whatsoever."
Now that the surprise has worn off, I find myself really looking forward to traveling by this freaky fire. So I step into the fireplace and clench a fistful of the dust, which starts to trickle quickly out of my hand.
"Just say, Ministry of Magic, England and throw it down," Mr. Weasley says reassuringly.
"Ministry of Magic, England," I repeat and quickly pitching the dust down.
Everything happens so quickly, and I cough violently when a cloud of dust whirls and gets in my mouth before I can close it. Then I'm spinning and spinning, and my head and stomach are getting queasy feelings. Suddenly, hard ground meets my feet and I stumble forward, barely making it into a roll, out of the fireplace that I've landed in.