Title: Start Something
Author: Sonya
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended, so please don't sue – all you'll get is a really bratty bird and some really spoiled rats.
Spoilers: Up to "Wrecked" in the Buffyverse, up to "Goblet of Fire" in the Potterverse.
Pairings: Willow/Snape, Hermione/Viktor Krum, Draco/Ginny, Fred/Angelina. Other 'ships to be decided.
Summary: The Ministry sucks, and so do magical hangovers.
***
Hermione nudged the kitchen door open with her foot, her arms full of everything she could find that might possibly be useful in the creation of a restorative draught. She'd also grabbed a few things that she knew could be used in potions to aid in dreamless sleep, and a handful of various herbs that she thought she could use to fudge an energizing serum.
I don't know what I was thinking, putting Spells for Mundane Injuries and Maladies off until next term. I'm sure I could have fit it in somewhere, if I'd taken a moment to consider –
She nearly dropped the armload of supplies when she saw the commotion that had overrun the common room. There were Aurors everywhere. In one far corner a nervous thong of Hogwarts students had been gathered, and Professors Flitwick and Sprout were trying – with moderate success – to keep them calm. Some of the older students had been separated from the group and were being questioned by Aurors. A pair of girls that Hermione guessed to be third-years were clinging to one another and crying rather loudly; Professor Flitwick looked nearly ready to join them. Colin Creevey was arguing with Professor Sprout, gesturing frantically towards the center of the room.
Tables had been transfigured into cots, and there was a team of mediwitches and wizards hovering over Dennis and Cassy, and several more students. Seamus Finnegan was strapped down on a cot, thrashing against the restraints, as a distinctly panicked-looking mediwizard fluttered about him gesturing with a wand, muttering. Two Aurors stood just behind him, taking notes and frowning. Hermione saw a fat dark braid hanging off the end of another cot, twitching like the tail of a nervous horse. The figure was obscured by the throng of emergency medical personnel clustered around the cot, but that braid looked an awful lot like how Angelina liked to wear her hair.
The red-haired woman – Hermione was startled to realize she still didn't know her name – was standing to one side with her arms crossed, giving an Auror a look that could have melted glass. He had his wand pointed belligerently in her face.
" – idiocy!" Snape was yelling, his face flushed nearly purple with rage. He had the mug with the crushed snake on it, and was waving it threateningly in another equally infuriated-looking Auror's face. "When Dumbledore –"
"Albus Dumbledore needs to learn his place!" the Auror snapped back, spittle flying from his lips, his rather pudgy face blotching. His deep green uniform was decorated with various pins and medals and was topped off with a brimless, pointed green hat, with some sort of insignia on the front. "This is a Ministry matter! I have my orders from Cornelius Fudge himself!"
"Cornelius Fudge is a blind, doddering old fool!" Snape bellowed. The Auror sputtered disbelievingly; across the room, Professor Flitwick flinched.
"Oh, sure, you're just following orders!" the redhead shouted, sending a nasty look over her captor's shoulder. "Is that what you're gonna tell all these kids' parents? Sorry your kid's all dead and stuff, but I had my orders from somebody all big and important!" The Auror guarding her shifted to block her view, jabbing his wand threateningly within inches of her eyes. "Bite me," the witch snapped at him.
"You would do well to remain silent, Madam!" the Auror in the green hat retorted indignantly. "Performing advanced healing spells without use of a wand is a violation of –"
"I'm gonna shove a wand up your ass!"
"I WANT TO SEE MY BROTHER!" Colin yelled so loudly and shrilly that everyone paused for a moment.
"Oh dear," Professor Flitwick moaned into the sudden silence. "Oh dear, oh dear . ."
One of the Aurors who had been questioning students hastily moved to assist Professor Sprout in restraining Colin. He cast some sort of calming charm on the hysterical boy, which frightened the third-year pair back into sobbing.
"If you won't allow her to perform the proper procedure," Snape addressed the Auror in the green cap, speaking with forced, deadly calm, "at least instruct your medics to do so. I'm telling you, these students have been bitten by a deadly poisonous snake. They are not cursed."
"That's not been determined as of yet!" the Auror answered him in a very self-important tone. "There are proper procedures to be followed here, tests to be performed, to assure we don't cause more damage when –"
"Proper procedures?!?" Snape exploded again. "You self-important little –"
"Don't you take that tone with –"
"Quiet, both of you!" one of the mediwitches snapped, an older woman with white hair pulled back into a stark bun. She turned to the redhead. "Tell me what you did," she ordered in a clipped, no-nonsense voice. "And get that thing out of her face, for Merlin's sake!" She brushed the Auror's wand away with an exasperated wave of her hand.
The redhead gave him a triumphant smirk.
"I don't think –" the green-capped Auror began in a prim tone.
"No, you obviously don't!" the mediwitch rounded on him, eyes flashing. The Auror flushed purple; Snape gave a nasty snicker. "Those children –" she waved a hand at Dennis and Cassy – "are recovering nicely. *These* children" – she waved in the direction of the others bitten students, and the bevy of mediwizards and witches all poised awaiting further instructions – "are not responding to a single counter-curse! Now what does that tell you?"
"This woman is in the custody of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!" the Auror responded, ignoring the mediwitch's question. "You have no authority to –"
"No authority?" the mediwitch snapped back, stalking up to him, her wand waving in his face. The Auror leaned back so far that his green cap fell off his round head. "No authority?!? You can tell Cornelius Fudge himself – you can tell Merlin himself! – that it will be a very cold day in hell before *he* has the *authority* to tell me to watch children die!"
The Auror sputtered.
"Oh dear, oh dear," Flitwick wrung his hands.
The mediwitch gave a satisfied nod. "You!" she barked out, pointing her wand at the red-head. "Show me this spell you did!" The younger witch hurried to the nearest student's cot; the Auror who had been guarding her gave his superior – who was making a great show of dusting off his green velvet hat – an apologetic shrug, but didn't try to stop her.
* * *
"Hello?" Ginny Weasley called, none too loudly, down a shadowed alleyway. She thought she'd heard something. Hogsmeade was ghostly quiet now, the panicked mob having long since fled, the shops all closed, many of them sporting shattered front windows and kicked-in doors as testament to the trauma they'd witnessed less than an hour before.
Ginny suspected there were students hiding in many of the unguarded shops, but she wasn't going in to find out.
Snape can go ahead and give me detention, and take half a bazillion points from Gryffindor, I don't care. At least I'll be alive for it.
Alleys are just about it. I draw the line there, and that's .. well, that's just about it. And if he doesn't like that he can just . . just stuff it!
Stuff it? Oh, real scary, Gin. You'd think with as many brothers as you have, you'd have learned how to curse.
"Hello? Anyone there?" Ginny called out again, taking a single tentative step into the alley, the snow crunching under her feet. She heard it again. Rustling, and a sound like someone retching. She swallowed hard. It was not the most comforting of noises.
"It's okay to come out now," she tried again. "Everybody's done rioting."
And doesn't that sound odd? Like saying supper's over. Everybody's had their fill of rioting, was very good, have to get the recipe – will you please pass the cowering?
I'd really like to be cowering right now, rather than ducking down alleyways. Stupid greasy git. I should have said no and just let him give me detention. With any luck somebody trampled him and it doesn't matter anymore anyway.
The retching sound stopped; the alley was now very quiet. Ginny swallowed and took two steps forward, eyeing the crates that lined the outside walls of the two shops that created the narrow space. Anything could be hiding in there.
"Look, if you're a Hogwarts student, you're supposed to go to the Three Broomsticks," she announced. There was no answer. Her fingers were nervously toying with the end of her wand, tucked into her skirt. "Professor Snape sent me and my brother to fetch everyone." And wasn't it just a brilliant idea to split up. "He said he's going to give detention to everyone who's not there in a half-hour." And take ten points from Gryffindor for each student we don't find. "So if you're a student you'd really better get moving."
It's probably not a student. Probably just someone here doing their holiday shopping.
Or not even someone. It's probably stray cat. Or a rat even.
A very large rat. Do rats retch? I never saw Scabbers throw up.
But then, Scabbers wasn't really a rat, was he? Of course, I'm not supposed to know that. Nobody tells little Ginny anything.
She pulled her wand out of her skirt, fidgeting with it uncertainly. It could be a little kid.
I can't just leave it here if it's some poor little kid who got separated from her parents. A little kid could freeze to death out here. Or starve. Or plenty of other awful things.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she announced, holding her wand at the ready. "So don't do anything silly, okay? But I'm gonna come looking for you now. Unless you want to come out."
No answer.
"Are you hurt?" she asked. Merlin, why didn't I think of that? What if they can't talk, because they're too busy twitching and foaming at the mouth like Dennis?
I hope he's okay. I wish I knew he was okay, him and everyone else. And that nothing *else* bad is going to happen. That would be a nice thing to know.
"Okay then," she said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I'm coming."
"Don't," croaked out a male voice. She jumped, sucking in a startled breath, hand clenching so tightly around her wand she half expected it to crack.
A familiar male voice, though she couldn't quite place it.
"W-who's there?" she demanded.
"Go away!" the voice called back, sounding a little more sure of itself.
"Not until you show me you're not hurt!" Ginny insisted. And what am I going to do if he won't, hrmm?
He doesn't sound like a little kid. Doesn't sound quite like an adult, either, but not a little kid.
Surely old enough to take care of himself. Doesn't need me hanging about in creepy alleys fussing over him.
I really could go now.
"I said go away, Weasel!" the voice yelled back. Ginny gasped.
"Malfoy?" she exclaimed.
* * *
My head is going to explode. Seriously. I literally think it might.
It feels like my brain is melting.
I am so incredibly, unbelievably stupid . . gotta hold it together . .
Willow bent over a pretty, dark-skinned girl of about 18 and tried hard to ignore the way the girl and the cot and everything else was starting to look like it was outlined in sizzling prismatic colors. Or the hints of gray static that kept creeping into the edge of her vision. Or the way she could literally feel every nerve in her body, every scrap of magical energy she was drawing along them, because they all burned.
She reached out, concentrating, feeling with incorporeal senses for the poison burning in the girl's veins, tiny molecules in so very much blood, so much, so very much and it's so tiny and bright and sparkly and burning, burning, my eyes are burning out of my head –
NO! Stop it! Gotta hold it together!
She gathered the poison, in the girl's heart as her blood circulated it through, her hand clenching rhythmically along with the magical effort of keeping that heart beating. It didn't want to. She'd lain there too long as Willow dealt with others first, too much of her was already shutting down, nerves all short-circuiting. The poison was well-ensconced in her system, hiding in tiny capillaries, fighting its extraction almost lazily, like it doesn't think I can take it, huh, well I'll show it, I'll show the bitch, over-confident much, huh? You wanna start with me? You starting with me? Bring it on, bitch!
I'll burn you, burn you out, burn you down, I'm burning, burning, oh God my blood is on fire it's boiling it's –
FOCUS! Poison. Gather the poison. Keep the heart beating.
My heart is going to beat out of my chest I can feel my ribs breaking –
NO! FOCUS ON THE GIRL!
Oh God I am the stupidest person alive I don't know what I did to myself what Rack did to me but this girl is gonna die because I am the stupidest, most pathetic waste of a junky that ever walked the earth and oh God it hurts SO fucking bad!
Just a little more, little more, come on BITCH let it go, you aren't gonna win, you ARE NOT GONNA FUCKING WIN, she is not gonna die you bitch, I've got you – I've got –
"EEARgh!" Willow shrieked, feeling like tiny explosions were detonating behind her eyes, little fires burning in her brain, everything scorching with white-hot pain – but she had the poison. Another mediwitch rushed in to take over the job of keeping the girl's heart beating, murmuring complicated little incantations that were echoing nonsensically around in Willow's head.
Everything's so loud. Buzzing, like little insects. Like hundreds of little buzzing insects all crawling around on the inside of my head. I wonder why they don't all burn up.
Shiny. So little, and shiny. She stared dazedly at the writhing globe of poison.
"Incendio," someone murmured from her side. The little globe of poison sparked, burned, vanished to ash within half a moment. She turned to glare into black eyes.
"Hey! I was –"
"Drink this," the dark-eyed, dark-haired man ordered, ignoring her protest and shoving a steaming cup of something foul-smelling in her face. Willow wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. Ugh, that's making my head hurt worse.
"No time," she argued, shoving him aside. "More kids .. and . . not kids . . " The next cot over contained a middle-aged woman with black hair. "More to do .. can't stop yet . ."
"Yes, because it's such a wise idea to continue wielding powerful magics when you can't even manage coherent sentences," the man retorted scathingly, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, thrusting the cup of nasty-smelling stuff at her again. "Now drink this."
"Hey!" she yelped indignantly, pulling her arm out of his grasp. She stumbled, and had to grab a cot to keep from falling. The group of medics tending the cot's occupant gave her wary, uncertain looks. "I'm fine!" she snapped at them. My head's gonna fall off my neck. Just shatter and fall right off. "I'm fine! And who made you the boss of me?!" she demanded of the dark-eyed man.
"You are behaving like a spoiled child," he snapped back. "You can barely stand."
"Doesn't matter," she insisted irritably, lurching awkwardly towards the next cot. Oh yeah, standing is getting challenging. "Gotta keep -" She stared down at the white sheet covering the cot, just beside the woman's slightly vibrating arm. There was a spot of blood.
Where did that come from?
Another spot of blood joined it. Then another, more quickly.
There's something hot running down my lips . . burns . . everything burns, make it stop, can't stop, can't stop gotta keep going, gotta fight it, gotta –
"No, you do not," the man said firmly. "The medics can handle this now." She was grabbed by both shoulders this time, spun forcefully around. Sounds all English like Giles when he's mad, but voice isn't like Giles, like . . all deep and dark . . so nice deep and dark everything's so bright and burning, burning, gonna burn me . .
"Let go!" she demanded shrilly, the words coming out slightly blurred. She tasted blood. Nothing was making sense. Everything hurt, everything burned, everything's burning, too much, too hot, Buffy it's too hot, it hurts, Mom don't, please, hurts so bad everything burning –
"You wanna fry a witch?!?" she screeched, twisting hard against the hands that held her. "You wanna start with me? Huh? You wanna -" and then she felt herself falling forward, just before everything went searing white.