Harry Potter and
the Half Blood Prince…And Others
Chapter Nine Elapse
When Oz opened his eyes, two things abruptly attacked his senses; the first thing he felt was the line of pain that coursed through his entire body. It started with his head; a blooming pain that felt like ice down his back and through his limbs, leaving him numb and shivering. The second thing he felt was death.
Living in the mountains with an old werewolf, he learned things.
How to control the beast.
How to feel the presence of others like him.
And, lastly, the old werewolf taught him to see and feel and smell that rotting presence of discord and discomfort.
A groan from the corner swiveled his eyes to the slumped form of a disgruntled Slayer. She wriggled awake on the stone floor, her shoulders rolling as she sat up and wiped her eyes.
"Hey." she said, looking around at their prison. Oz nodded in acknowledgment in that muted way of his, his eyes following the same tract as hers as the roamed the small space they were confined to.
"What happened?" she asked, blinking in the darkness as she stood up and brushed off her dirt ridden pants.
Before Oz could answer with the obvious shrug, heavy footfalls made their presence known, and Oz shivered at the look of death in the mans' red eyes as he presented himself at the vertical bars of their keep.
"I happened."
Afterglow. There'd been little time to enjoy the soothing pleasure of lying naked in a bed of sheets; her leg hooked across his, her pink fingertips blindly tracing circles over a sore nipple.
Afterglow pleasurlies suffused her as she felt the rays of the sun dance lightly over her skin, and she sighed.
This was how it was supposed to be. She looked up, her chin bouncing on his chest. She smiled and waited for that answering smile. It came, along with a soft hand that smoothed her mussed bed-hair.
"This is how it's supposed to be," she said quietly.
Silently, he agreed.
Breakfast was never a formal affair, with different class schedules and all, but as Buffy sat at the head table she could feel how infinitely different the atmosphere was. Whispered conversations were coming from every corner of the room. She could only catch snitches of conversation, and nothing was coherent enough to fully decipher.
Looking down the Gryffindor table, she saw Dawns' head shoved between Harry Potter and Hermione Grangers'.
"What's up?" Dawn asked, plopping between Harry and Hermione. Ron hadn't arrived as of yet. Stomach flu, Hermione had murmured as she scanned the Daily Prophet. "Hogwarts Bound Train Overcome by Dementors" Dawn made a hiccup-gasp, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"Was anyone hurt?" She asked through the fingers covering her mouth. Harry quickly scanned the article. Dawn felt a gush of relief when he began to shake his head- but he stopped.
"No. Two passengers were taken. Muggles who were arriving via train to confer with Dumbeldore. He showed Dawn the muggle-pictures of them. Dawn gasped.
"I KNOW them!" she squealed.
Dumbeldore flicked his wand at the bookshelf, and a single velvet bound book flew to him and landed open on his desk. Another slight flick and the pages flipped and flipped and stopped.
"My brother." He said.
Dumbeldore smiled sadly.
"I'm afraid your great neice has been into some trouble lately."
"I'm 'fraid so myself."
"Shall we have Anya?..."
"Yeah. Let demon-girl figure her out."
"You know of course that this spell is very complex."
"Yes."
"Well then, your hand?"
"...No. My neck."
"Bend over then."
Growl "Bugger that stings."
"Years of inflicting it and yet you have only known the touch once? A shame that we do not know well what we do."
"Yes...well. No more. I'm Slayer-whipped."
"Yes, perhaps so."
Buffy encircled Spike within her arms.
"Let's go out tonight." She whispers, drunkenly swaying in his arms.
"I believe you've beat me there, luv." He says, chuckling.
"No." Buffy says with her wicked little smile. "I want to hunt."
Run run run.
A chant. Ruthless as it tries to outrun her.
Run run.
Black sheep, white horses.
Images of paintings half remembered. A thrill. A race.
Times gone by as the wind caresses her face.
Vines whip by as she pounds dirt beneath her feet. Tiny cuts to heal by morning, and still her feet race.
Run run.
The beast is behind her, before her, beside her.
It laughs. It speeds up, falters. It catches the hem of her sleeve in dancing fingers.
Dance Dance.
Proverbial song...sunburnt mirth.
Laughter.
He catches her up in a kiss. She reacts.
Pink nails in soft blonde hair.
Blue eyes, green eyes meeting in that final kiss.
Lips and lips. Sighs and groans and moans and pleasurable rolling of the shoulders.
Lick and preen. Love is a Cat with sinewy muscles.
She laughs one last time and spins from his grasp.
His fingers catch her hem.
And she's gone as the vines whip her face.
Run Run Run.
An endless chant
Anya sighs as she reads the parchment curled around the vial. She stands and grabs her coat, stooping to fill her bags with an assortment of ingredients before she steps from her room.
Again she traipses to the underground demon hold. Again Riley greets her. She gives him a flirtatious smile as they walk.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out between you and Xander," he says, and she believes the sincerity.
"Thanks." she says, smiling. "Sometimes I think I miss him..but..."
"How's Buffy?" Riley asks softly, his brown hair falling in his eyes like the frat boy he was so long ago. Now she saw him as a man.
"Moved on. Not married, but in love."
"With Spike?" He said with a dead kind of resentment.
"Yeah. Forgive and forget as much as you can, but when they break your heart demand monetary compensation." Riley laughed a little as they continued to the cell holding her object of interest.
Narcissa.
Anya smiles wistfully as she sits before her.
"You remember your cousin Sirius, don't you?"