Ah, finally managed to finish this chapter. I've been dealing with a slight family conflict and since my dad and I are neutral territory, everyone's been coming over and all that. Haven't had much time to myself amidst that and homework. But at least it's in. Thanks a lot to my patient reviewers. I'm really sorry. And is anyone else getting sick of all these hurricanes? I would so hate to live in Florida or anywhere in the Southeast right now for that matter. I'm still getting tons of rain though. Hope any of my readers that do live in those are safe as well as their friends and family.
This chapter is dedicated to Malli. I couldn't believe that she had passed away, but I don't know what happened. If anyone wants to enlighten me that would be most appreciated. I was really enjoying her story, "The Phoenix Child", and it is so sad that such a talented author has been taken.
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After reading the Anne Rice novels that had piqued her interests in Muggle bookstores Jordan suddenly gained a new appreciation for the real vampires she and her brethren fought on a day-to-day basis. Although, she had to admit that were she ever to meet this sexy Lestat or especially this alluring Armand character who seemed to get straight men to rethink their preferences she probably would be caught between being scared shitless and delighted beyond belief.
Unfortunately, while caught up in one of the novels Miss Rice had so artfully composed she had drifted away from her class en route to Potions class of all classes and was now running seven minutes late due to those stupid changing staircases. Well, she cheated a bit on those by leaping to the one she needed, which she probably shouldn't do lest some younger student see it and try to attempt it. But no one else was around, so she figured what they didn't see they couldn't repeat and get her into trouble for it.
She played the "slayer business" trump card once, which oddly enough, Professor Snape seemed to accept and only deducted twenty-five points from Gryffindor instead of the usual fifty. Now, she figured it was time to use the "lady emergency" trump card. It would give all the boys in the class a good long cringe and shudder, she noted to herself with a smirk.
Flying down the stone corridors to the dungeons at slayer speed she failed to notice the soaking wet floor in front of the haunted girl's bathroom and went sliding. She flew backwards and hit the stone floor with a loud thump her head smacking against the hard stone floor. Books and paper went flying everywhere and Jordan curse loudly in fury.
She slowly sat up and put a hand to her aching head where a knot was beginning to grow. Luckily, she detected no bleeding and she figured with her stamina there would be no brain damage. But now she was wet in the back and she knew damn well whose fault it was. That goddamned, pathetic, self-pitying ghost! I swear to God isn't fifty years enough to get over anything that happened to you in life. I'm never coming back as a ghost.
Jordan rose to her feet and gathered her scattered supplies while using her brand new wand to perform various drying charms. She sighed in annoyance when she heard the telltale moanings of the resident ghost of the Girl's Toilet, Moaning Myrtle. Letting her anger get the better of her she stalked into that bathroom and kicked open the stall with the flooding toilet.
"What is it now? Somebody make fun of your glasses again?" she asked impatiently.
The distraught specter ceased her moanings for a moment to stare in shock at the living girl who was standing before her looking extremely incensed. She sniffled and continued crying.
"Oh, shut up already! I honestly don't know how Harry and his friends put up with you. If you're crying about being dead then get over it already! You've been dead for over fifty years! It's not like you can do anything about that. Pass over or whatever it is ghosts do if being on the mortal plane torments you so much. Nearly-Headless Nick has been dead longer than you and he died of a far more painful death, but you don't see him griping about it all the time," Jordan spat. She understood having those moments, but this constant whining was ridiculous.
Shifting her books to the other arm, the young slayer continued, "If someone made fun of you for Merlin-knows what reason then suck it up and confront them or whatever. Sitting here crying about it won't help you, it just makes you a more amusing candidate for making fun, FYI. Believe me, I know this."
She knew that she was probably being a bit too hard on the dead girl, but having missed breakfast that morning and dinner the night before due to the continual struggle to keep her head above water in Transfiguration and the jittery nerves from the upcoming Quidditch game against the Gryffindor House rival, Slytherin, that afternoon was making her prone to bouts of irrational anger.
Myrtle's translucent face contorted into an expression of shock and a new wave of misery. "Just go away and leave me alone!" she howled.
Jordan would have stayed and continued haranguing the child spirit, but she was as of now almost ten minutes late for Potions and it would take at least another two to get to the classroom. She threw up her hands in frustration and stomped out of the bathroom.
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Once again scanning the classroom for the auburn-headed pupil of his that was so resentfully gifted with potions Professor Severus Snape rubbed his temples. The rest of the class was busy copying down new notes for silencing potions, but he noticed some of his Gryffindor pupils, namely the Firewell girl's twin brother and Potter's gang, anxiously looking to the doorway for a sign of their friend.
He also noticed one of his more favored students, Draco Malfoy, turn his gaze away from the board and to the doorway occasionally. Why he seemed interested in the girl's whereabouts were beyond this professor's comprehension, but it was plain to see.
Twelve minutes after the commencement of class the wayward teen arrived into the classroom looking disheveled and disgruntled. Snape idly wondered what had occurred in those minutes between leaving her previous class and arriving to his most unfashionably late, but swept it from his mind. All that mattered was that she was most certainly tardy and he could not ignore that fact no matter how astonishingly talented at potion brewing she was. Already a little soft spot was beginning to form—which the wizard would deny from now unto eternity—for the American slayer-witch, who was a child of a man who despised him; as if that were uncommon for a man of his distinctly dark and shameful past.
He cleared his throat and centered his obsidian eyes on the girl. "Miss Firewell, are you aware of the time this class starts?"
Jordan tucked a stray reddish-brown strand behind her ear and replied apologetically, "I'm sorry, Sir. But...I got lost in the corridors and had the privilege of coming across Moaning Myrtle in one of her many moaning moods." He fancied he heard a vague muttering of "whining dead crybaby twit".
No one required further explanation as to what had occurred and Snape proceeded to deduct forty-five points from Gryffindor. Jordan slid into her seat beside Neville Longbottom, whom she had taken it upon herself to assist and guide the hapless boy in his worst (and occasionally most dangerous to self and others) subject. Contrary to his usual technique of causing students to despise him all the time by splitting the Gryffindors and Slytherins and forcing them to work together, Snape let this pair stay as it was. The boy's progress in class had made a slight improvement, but only slight. At least he hadn't melted a cauldron that year as of yet, but they still had many long months to go before the end-of-term and this Potions Master was reluctant to push his tenuous luck.
Jordan began scrawling down the notes almost absent-mindedly having already concocted a silencing potion similar to the one they were to be making a few years back during a summer vacation. Although, she had miscalculated on some ingredient measuring thus causing the whole family to go mute for four days upon voluntary testing before she was able to find and brew the antidote. From that time on she was left to test on herself...most of the time. Aidan was a part-time candidate having learned to differentiate between the beneficial and not-so-beneficial mixtures.
After the hour and a half was finished signaling the end of lessons for the day students leapt for the doorway to gulp down dinner before heading to the Pitch. Although it was the second game of the season the Gryffindors had played, it was the game that centered everyone's favorite rivals: Gryffindor and Slytherin. The pressure on the newly crafted Gryffindor team was extremely heavy, and Jordan was feeling the weight of it. The pressure had never been nearly as bad as at Cristallon, although that was probably because Quidditch wasn't as big a deal in the States as it was in Europe.
"So, what did our old toilet chum have to say?" Harry inquired as the group stepped out of the classroom.
Jordan snorted sardonically. "As she if said much of anything. She just cried and cried and I told her off; told her to get over it."
Aidan frowned. "Why did you do that? That sounds kinda mean."
His twin sighed in annoyance. "Because I happen to be in a particularly bitchy mood right now."
Hermione patted her friend on the back. "Nervous about the game?"
Jordan quickly shook her head, but after receiving a look from Hermione that basically said, You are so full of shit, she relented and nodded. "I swear, it's like life or death here and I'm only used to the actual life or death situations. Why is it that I find the thought of going out and facing twenty vampires at once more appealing than playing in the Quidditch game tonight?"
"Jordan, you'll do great. You did well the last game we played, although that was only against Hufflepuff," Ron told her in an attempt to alleviate her worries.
The girl just rolled her eyes and walked ahead before stopping and turning around. "Crap, I left my potions textbook in the classroom. Go on ahead without me, I'll catch up and hopefully not slip on Myrtle's mess."
She walked past her friends and rounded the corner to head back down to the dungeons only to come face to face with Draco Malfoy. He was smirking at her with that customary and very resentfully sexy smirk of his. Why did he have to be so hot, but such an asshole at the same time?
She groaned inwardly and muttered aloud very quietly, "Figures. A perfect almost end to the perfect fricking day."
"Forget something?" he inquired smugly.
Jordan plastered on the most obviously sarcastic smile she could muster. "What do you want? I really don't have the patience for any of your shit today, Malfoy."
If it was at all possible for the boy to actually feel emotions, her remark actually seemed to have hurt his feelings. She then figured it was just a fluke of her imagination and brushed it aside.
Draco's smirk disappeared and he held out the object Jordan had been going back to get: her potions textbook. She recognized it as hers because of the book covering decorated with dozens of little mindless doodles mostly consisting of bad drawings of weaponry. She stared at her book in complete bafflement and her honey eyes darted back to the platinum-haired Slytherin and back to her book and then back to him.
"Well, are you just going to stand there goggling or are you going to take the book?" Draco asked with an odd mixture of impatience, amusement, and sarcasm.
She slowly reached out and took the book from his grasp trying to figure what exactly he was playing at. Could it be possible that the infamous Draco Malfoy, Boy With Ego Larger Than Brains, was actually doing something....humane? Now that was bizarre. Draco Malfoy and humane being put in the same sentence. From everything she had heard of this boy's exploits towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione for the past five years and from what she had seen herself it was very difficult to wrap her mind around it.
"Thanks," she mumbled, still dumbfounded. "I'll...uh...see you at the game."
She turned away from the tall Slytherin and walked up to the dining hall still sporting that strange frown of complete mystification. What was up with him?
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Harry appraised his Quidditch team with an undeniable swelling in pride within his chest. He hoped the horrendous weather of that night would not spell ill for their game. Well, it wasn't the weather outside that bothered him because he had played in really bad weather before, it was more the fact that the last time he had played against Slytherin he and Fred and George Weasley had ended up getting kicked off the team by Umbridge. He knew that it wasn't likely he would be kicked off again since Umbride was where she belonged, at St. Mungo's. But he couldn't shake his feeling of apprehension at facing Slytherin in his position as co-captain instead of just the Seeker. If they lost against the Slytherins who were their most fervent rivals, Harry couldn't help but feel it was his fault.
He saw out of the corner of his eye Aidan beckoning him over from the entrance to the changing rooms. He walked over to the Chaser with a questioning look on his face. Aidan simply smiled and pointed out the door. Harry opened it and his smile soon surpassed the tall American's when he saw his girlfriend standing outside. Dawn had a green and silver scarf wrapped around her neck and a black jacket on, but she held a Gryffindor flag in her hands.
"Dawn, you didn't have to do that. I don't want you to further alienate yourself in that house," Harry said, although he could not help but be pleased at her loyalty.
"Aw, it's no big. Besides, what kinda girlfriend would I be if I didn't support my boyfriend?" she replied sweetly. "I'm not sitting with the Slytherins anyway. I'm sitting with the Scoobies."
Harry grinned and pulled her close to him giving her a grateful kiss on the lips. "Thanks. It means a lot to me." Just then, the booming voice of the announcer filled the pitch signaling to everyone that the games were about to start.
"I better split. Good luck and be careful," Dawn told Harry, giving him one last kiss for luck before scampering off.
Harry sighed when he heard the snickers behind him and turned to glare at his teammates. They were all standing outside the changing rooms decked out in crimson robes trimmed with gold, goggles, brown knee and elbow padding, and brown padded gloves.
"Great, Harry isn't going to be able to concentrate and Ron isn't thanks to Hermione. I believe all significant others should stay away from the changing rooms before games now," Seamus complained.
Ron managed to only turn slightly pink at the comment directed toward Hermione's own well-wishing from before. Ginny rolled her eyes at Seamus and shoved him.
"Shut it, Seamus. Harry and Ron will do fine. You're just jealous because you don't have someone to snog with," she retorted.
Harry cleared his throat a couple of times and latched onto the matter at hand as an appropriate subject change. "Everyone ready? Now remember, as long as you play your hardest it won't matter if we win or lose."
"Harry, are you joking? Of course it matters, we're playing bloody Slytherin!" Ron shouted. "And we have to beat the stupid ponces!"
"Yeah!" the team shouted simultaneously.
With that goal established, the Gryffindor team confidently strutted onto the pitch as if they were a group of soldiers heading off to battle. The applause and the screams of encouragement (and some of discouragement from the Slytherin end) as the Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch was deafening. They all separated into their assorted positions facing opposite the emerald and silver robed Slytherin team. Everyone lowered their goggles over their eyes and gripped onto their broom handles tightly.
Harry and Ron shook hands with the Slytherin captain as Madam Hooch walked onto the field with her whistle in her hand. The flying instructor eyed both teams with a pointed glare in warning for them all to behave themselves. She lifted her whistle to her mouth and called out shrilly, "On my mark! One....two....three!"
The screams from the audience were even more vociferous than before as the fourteen players rose above the ground. A flash of lightning illuminated the darkening pitch for a split second and was followed by an ominous crack of thunder. Harry sighed at the horrendous weather to come, but he had played in bad weather before and this time would be no different. He hoped so anyway.
He felt his blood rush through his veins at breakneck speed as he swooped and swerved all over the pitch keeping his eyes on the lookout for the tiny, golden Snitch. He barely heard the announcer's voice, some seventh-year Ravenclaw he didn't know, as she commentated on the game. He saw Ron swerve by him and bat away a Bludger that would have knocked Harry off his broom.
"Thanks!" Harry yelled.
Ron gave him a thumbs-up and flew away to the other end of the pitch.
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Dawn held her binoculars to her eyes as she followed Harry's every move feeling her pulse quicken in panic when he nearly got clobbered by a Bludger. Luckily, Ron came swooped in just in time to direct the enchanted ball elsewhere. This was the third official Quidditch game she had ever watched (the second one Gryffindor was in) and she was even more convinced that every player out there had to be half-insane to actually like playing. Sure, it was fun to watch, but Dawn could never in a million years picture herself as a Quidditch player.
"Dawnie, are you actually watching the game or just Harry?" her sister asked mischievously.
Dawn lowered her binoculars and smiled sheepishly. "So sue me, I want to support my boyfriend."
"Okay, so Harry is the one flying around doing nothing right now?" Xander inquired, pressing the binoculars to his eye-sockets.
"He's doing something. He's looking for the golden Snitch. If he catches it, it'll give the Gryffindors 150 points and the game will be over hopefully with Gryffindor having won," George Weasley, who was sitting in front of Xander, Dawn, and Buffy with Vi, told him.
"Ah, gotcha. This game is kind of confusing," Xander confessed.
"Ah it's not so hard to understand, mate. Once you've been around it enough it's like second nature. I really miss playing, meself. My brother and I were Beaters just like ickle Ronnikins down there," George said.
Vi and Dawn laughed. "Good thing Ron wasn't here to hear that," Vi said.
"What? I call him those names all the time. I'd wager he's used to it by now," George replied defensively.
"Ron's doin pretty good. Did your talent rub off on him?" Faith, seated beside Buffy, queried.
Before the Weasley twin could answer the group was joined by the fashionably late resident Wicca. Willow scooted in between Xander and Dawn with a resounding sigh of pent up annoyance.
"Will, where have you been? The game started fifteen minutes ago," Xander said to her.
"Sorry, I got carried away with another failed locating spell. That bastard that keeps spying on me, whoever he is, has done his homework. I can't locate him at all," Willow explained, her voice brimming with frustration.
Everyone exchanged troubled looks at Willow's infuriating predicament. They knew how long the Wicca had been working to find the creep that was using magic to keep an eye on her, but kept evading her attempts to find him. Buffy and Faith felt particularly helpless in this aspect because they were used to being able to solve problems albeit usually having to use physical force.
"Hasn't anyone at those covens been helping?" Buffy asked.
Willow rubbed her temples and nodded. "Yeah, they haven't found squat either. I hate this. This creep can see me, but I can't get a whiff of him at all; assuming it is a man."
Xander patted her back reassuringly. "Don't worry, Will. We'll find this guy soon enough. We're the Scoobies, there's nothing we can't do."
"Except figure out who this mystery lady of yours is, Xand," Buffy interjected wryly.
Willow's bad mood bounced back instantly at that subject change. "Hey, yeah! When are we supposed to meet your new girlfriend?"
Xander shook his head. "She's not my girlfriend. She's just a friend. Now anyway. And she's visiting her family right now, but we've been writing."
"Is she a demon?" Dawn asked, quite seriously.
"No!" Xander exclaimed before sheepishly adding, "I don't think. She's only the most beautiful girl I've ever met in....ever."
"With your track record, man, you shoulda had me and B check her out," Faith told him. "Can't be too careful."
"You can't keep her secret for long, you know. I have ways of finding out things," Willow warned him, her dark green eyes sparkling with mirth.
"Could you at least tell us her name?" Buffy pleaded.
Xander grinned and wagged a finger at his friends. "I just love to watch you guys squirm over nominal stuff."
Dawn scoffed at that remark and mumbled, "Evil."
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When the rain clouds started pouring down the rain they had promised the score was at a stalemate of sixty to sixty. The eagerness of the audience had begun to slack off slightly due to the desire to get out of the rain and in front of warm crackling fires.
Ginny, with the Quaffle tucked underneath her arm, batted annoying red strands of hair out of her face as she flew towards the goalposts. She chanced a quick glance all around her and assured herself that Jordan and Aidan were close by in case she would have to pass to them. She narrowed her hazel eyes on the goal posts about a few hundred yards in front of her and kicked it into higher gear.
The redheaded Chaser failed to notice a large, seventh-year Slytherin Chaser closing in on her. Unlike the Gryffindors, the Slytherins did not generally carry an intrinsic sense of honor. They were willing to go to any means to see their wishes carried out. This was seen quite often upon the Quidditch pitch during games and mostly when played against Gryffindor. The larger, stronger Chaser slammed into the small Weasley girl effectively and possibly not unintentionally knocking her off her broom. Audible gasps could be heard from the entire crowd as if were one giant entity witnessing the spectacle. Ginny was far too shocked to scream during the fall before she fell right into another player it seemed, who had dived underneath to catch her. It took a moment between screaming hysterically and her rescuer's own voice of assurance before she realized she hadn't fallen far and her entrails were not in fact coating the muddy pitch.
"Ginny! Are you okay!?" her rescuer asked anxiously.
Shaking uncontrollably, she didn't respond; she didn't even open her eyes to see who had caught her. She heard other voices clamoring about around her, none she could distinguish from the other. She could barely hear the sound of her own breathing over the pounding of her heart.
"Take her down! I've got her broom!" someone called out.
"That arsehole! What the bloody hell was he playing at?" someone else yelled angrily.
"Is she alright?"
"Jesus Christ, that would have been one helluva drop."
Harry and Ron called for a time out and Madam Hooch was screaming herself hoarse for the Slytherin responsible to dismount so she could scream at him some more. Most of the audience was noisily calling for a severe penalty and some Gryffindor students were running onto the field to see if their housemate was safe.
Aidan had been the one who caught her and he was currently trying to pry her off of him. Ginny was so petrified that she had clung to him like glue and was starting to greatly impair his breathing.
"Gin,gaspwe're on the ground now. You can gasp let go now...please," he stammered.
"Ginny, it's alright. You're safe," Ron, his skin paler than usual, said breathlessly while rubbing his younger sister's back.
Ginny opened her eyes tentatively and released her vice-like grip on Aidan. She peeled herself off of the boy and shakily stood on her own two feet with her brother by her side. Her boyfriend came into view and engulfed her in a tight hug while whispering soothing words in her ear.
"I'm fine, Dean. Just a little...winded," she assured him, her voice quivering slightly.
She looked over his shoulder to see Harry trying to placate an extremely incensed Jordan who was holding onto her broom and Ginny's broom. She looked very near to ripping the Slytherin who shoved Ginny off her broom to keep her from scoring limb from limb. What was scary was that Jordan was very physically capable of doing just that.
"How dare you pull something like this! Your actions were completely unfounded and reckless. Miss Weasley could have been killed! What were you thinking?!" Madam Hooch reprimanded harshly, shaking her fist at the boy.
Jordan stomped away from the scene with the most furious glare Ginny had ever seen upon the young slayer's face. Her glare softened to a frown of concern when she came upon the redheaded Chaser.
"Everything alright? I...erm....saved your broom." Jordan proffered the scuffed Cleansweep to Ginny. "Is it always like this against the Slytherins? Competition was never that tense at Cristallon when Aidan and I were on the Quidditch team."
"Well, it's not the first time the Slytherins have tried to sabotage the Gryffindor team and it probably won't be the last. The only reason the Gryffindor team doesn't do it is because we're 'noble' as some like to put it," Hermione, who had raced down from the stands along with Dean, explained. Her fair skin was glistening with sweat and her chocolate brown eyes were laced with fear and concern for her boyfriend's sister.
Jordan turned her head skywards as if to speak to the sky itself and mumbled something under her breath that Hermione, with her slayer ears, picked up as, "This is complete madness."
Everyone's attention turned towards the two co-captains as they came walking back over to the rest of the grounded Gryffindor team. There was a definite ambience of fury and frustration surrounding the teenage boys.
"He's being banned from Quidditch, well, that's the tentative sentence anyway. He's out of the game and the captain has called in a reserve," Harry addressed exasperatedly.
Ron nodded towards his sister, his hazel eyes serious. "Ginny, you alright to play? Or do you want us to call in a reserve for you too? It's okay if you're too shaken up to play. Harry and I thought it would be better if you sat the rest of the game out, anyway. But it's up to you."
Ginny swallowed in trepidation, but then wiped her fear from her face and replaced in with the trademark expression of Gryffindor fortitude. She drew herself up and a stubborn gleam of defiance flashed in her eyes. "I'm fine. I can play."
"Are you sure?" Aidan asked.
Ginny nodded curtly and pulled away from Dean with her broom in hand. "Dead sure. I'm going to make bloody well certain we win this."
The rest of the team watched her walk onto the pitch in slight admiration of her resilience before following behind her. The screams of support tempered with a small amount of discouraging jeers from the Slytherins rose to epic proportions as the two violently-rival teams stationed themselves in their positions.
The players had not been in the air for more than five minutes before Ginny had scored two goals in blatant defiance of what that Slytherin player had tried to do thus bringing the Gryffindors up twenty points. It was as if her near-death experience had given her a more influential incentive to play harder. She showed no signs of hesitation or fear upon the broomstick. If anything, she seemed more resolute in her desire to win prompting Jordan to say that Slytherins should try to push them off their brooms more often.
Less than fifteen minutes after they had reentered the game, Harry had made a spectacular dive for the Snitch and caught it within a hair's width of smacking into a giant green and silver column. He barely registered the fact that they had won the game until his team tackled him as he dismounted, the Snitch still struggling to free itself from his hand. The commentator shouted out that Gryffindor had won 230 to 60.
Jordan lifted him up effortlessly onto her shoulders and howled in fierce glory over their victory. The rest of the team danced around the two in ecstasy as the Slytherins watched sullenly from a distance.
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Did anyone notice that I really really want to write a fic in the Anne Rice-verse? If only she would let us.
Hollow Nightmare: Well, I've made a tentative decision on the Sirius situation (ha that sounds funny, I just love that dude's name). But since it's tentative I do not want to say anything just yet. And I'm pretty sure that Jordan and Draco will get together, but like I've said before, not until the end or close to it. Glad you like the Fleur/Xander idea.
Crazy-VampireSlayer: No, the book never said she was with Bill Weasley. And yeah she does attract a lot of guys, but none can match to my Xander (hehe). I doubt I'll be bringing Anya back. I wouldn't feel right about it. Sirius is iffy because I was never sure he was really dead anyway.
Silver Warrior: That's true, but wouldn't Fleur have to be interested in return?
Naitch03: Good luck on your writing. It's a lot of fun, but it isn't easy. Interesting thought on Harry/Ginny, but I'm not entirely sure I really like them together. I don't know why. I mean I could always picture Hermione/Ron, but Harry I can never put with someone strictly from the HP-verse.
Saxifrage: Haven't I seen you somewhere before lol? No, no Anya coming back from the grave. I might write some other AU stories where she survives sometime in the future.
matt: Tell me about it. High school jocks piss me off. There's this one in particular that has an ego bigger than the entire football team that it is somewhat infatuated with me. He reminds me so much of Draco actually and I can totally relate to Jordan in the story in that aspect. Don't know why everyone picks on the nerds and dorks when they probably will just end up working for them lol.
Vld: Yeah, you should get a medal for that idea. Yes, I can picture Dawn throttling the shit out of Draco. That would be fun to write. ::Smirks evilly:: I do so love to torture the arrogant ones, just like I do at school.
Thanks also to mk.