The First Day
I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand! —Did one but know!
Christina Georgina Rossetti
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08. The Prince and the Trio
-
Buffy slumped onto a chair in the very last row of the classroom in the freaking dungeon. Depressing much? It was just her luck that one of the only 'no wand required' courses offered at Hogwarts was taught by Professor Doom and Gloom, who apparently had a penchant for promoting the illusion that he really was a vampire. That guy has it in for me, and also a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, Buffy thought begrudgingly as she idly twirled a quill between her fingers. Unfortunately, the air drag created by the puffy feather prevented the expected smooth gliding motion. Frustrated by the utter uselessness of the wizarding world's choice of writing utensil, the blonde threw it down disdainfully on the dark, wooden table while feeling curious eyes boring into her from all directions. Not to mention that everyone is staring at me, what gives?
"This seat taken?" an arrogant male voice asked.
"Nope," she answered without bothering to look up, popping the 'p' as she tried unsuccessfully to give the quill twirling another go.
"You're American!" he exclaimed, making all the incoming and seated students' heads turn.
"Say that a little louder, I don't think the people upstairs heard you," Buffy snapped, annoyed.
The last thing the Slayer wanted was to draw more attention to herself. She finally looked at the young man sat down on the other chair at her table. He kind of reminded her of Spike for a split-second, if Spike were younger, lankier, had shrewd silver eyes instead of cerulean, and was—well, alive. However, the physical similarity stopped there. Upon closer inspection, Buffy would have bet her arm that this guy's sleek, white blonde hair color was au naturel. And while chiseled cheekbones had always been Spike's most prominent facial feature, that of the blonde standing before her was his pointed chin by a long shot. Unlike the rough Cockney accent her vampire had always spoken in, his was more refined—aristocratic, and the way the guy held himself bespoke of a strict, elitist upbringing. He's a hottie, Buffy decided as her gaze briefly settled on the badge pinned to his chest that was engraved with the letters: HB.
Draco regarded the blonde girl as with a raised platinum brow as his gaze swept over her small frame in a critical once-over. Hmm, interesting. Apparently, she was just as gorgeous up close as she had been from afar. Although, her unfortunate attribute of being a Yank was an unpleasant surprise, he couldn't help but still think her such a pretty little thing. The Prince of Slytherin even went so far as to consider overlooking her distasteful predilection for inferior Muggle fashions as well, as he took in her light cotton camisole and denim miniskirt. He had to admit that she still looked rather fetching. Not for the first time, Draco was glad that Pansy would not be starting the term until the second week of school. Taking out his books from his rucksack, the flaxen-haired Slytherin asked the first of a number of burning questions on his mind, "You're not a Mudblood, are you?"
"Uh, no," Buffy answered, a small crinkle appearing on her brow as she searched for the word in her memory only to come up with a blank. She didn't know what that meant exactly, but his condescending tone of voice made it sound like a disease, possibly the wizarding world's own form of leprosy by the way he spat it out like dirt.
"Good," the guy breathed, seemingly very relieved by her reply, and extended a large, pale hand. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he introduced with much ceremony, as if waiting for her to fall at his feet just because he said his name.
Buffy shook it tentatively, not knowing if he was actually some kind of wizarding royalty or merely stuck up. "I see you've got the James Bond intro down—" she rolled her eyes at his subsequent blank expression. No one ever got her pop culture references anymore, except for Dumbledore, and that was only because he was really old and worldly. That thought saddened her for an instant. "Never mind. Anyways, you already know my name, but call me Eliza."
"What's she doing sitting with Malfoy?"
The blonde Slayer whipped round her head in the direction of the indignant voice. It came from a tall, gangly, redheaded teenager who walked into the classroom with a pretty, bushy-haired brunette girl and another tall young man, this one with round glasses and messy black hair. All three of them were sporting ties that were gold and maroon striped, unlike Draco's, which was striped with green and silver. Buffy caught a glimpse of a similar badge worn by the girl that said HG.
"Who are they?" she asked Draco curiously.
The Slytherin Head Boy turned his head to glance at the group in question with derision. "The Gryffindor Golden Trio," he answered with disgust as they settled in a table a few rows away.
Before he could elaborate, the classroom door slammed shut with a thundering bang as Professor Snape strode to the front of the room in a flurry of black robes. Those still standing quickly took to their seats. Severus paused behind his desk to survey the class with his scowl firmly in place, which turned into a full-blown glower as seen as his empty black eyes settled on the petite blonde. "Since we have a guest in our midst today, I shall reiterate the rules." He shot Buffy a dark look which she responded with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Probably because his is stuck up his ass," Buffy quipped through the corner of her mouth.
Draco barely bit back his snicker. He was beginning to really like this girl, even if she was invited by the meddlesome, Muggle-loving headmaster.
"There will be no silly wand waving or inane incantations. Potion-making is an exact science requiring patience and skill that unfortunately not all of you possess—"
Buffy noticed him giving the bespectacled black-haired student and his fellow redhead a pointed, venomous glare.
"—Be as it may, I expect your full, undivided attention for this NEWT level course, and do not ever speak out of turn. Turn to page 43. We will be making the Gelid Freeze serum and antidote today."
-
Severus was annoyed. The idiot American girl didn't seem to be having any trouble at all with the complex potion. "Time's up!" he snarled, venting his frustrations on the undeserving class instead. "Test your serums on the azaleas at your desks." He watched contemptuously as Buffy squeezed a few drops of her serum onto the flower, which immediately turned blue with a sheet of frost. Draco then added a few drops of his antidote and the azalea sprang back to its previous state perfectly. Buffy grinned at Draco and fought back the urge to flip off the professor. Now even more irritated, Severus halted in front of Harry and Ron as their azalea froze only halfway and then crumpled into a withered heap after the antidote was applied.
"Another year, another dismal attempt, Misters Potter and Weasley. Ten points from Gryffindor!" he remarked with relish.
The bell rang.
Buffy quickly cleaned up her supplies and filed out with the other students.
"Ashbery, wait! What's your next class?" Draco asked as he hurriedly caught up to her.
Buffy pulled out her timetable from her bag. "Double History of Magic."
"Drat, I have Divination," Draco muttered in disappointment. Suddenly, a thought stuck him, "Would you like to join me for lunch?"
Buffy opened her mouth to refuse, but quickly changed her mind. At least less people would be staring at her if she were sitting in a more inconspicuous place, the Slayer reasoned. "Sure, why not."
Draco smirked, "Brilliant. I'll come find you after your class then," he called back as he headed off in the opposite direction.
-
Buffy noticed the girl studying her critically for several seconds before seeming to reach a decision in an internal debate. The brunette had a palpable air of intelligence to her as well as an unmistakable feel of bookishness. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger—" she held out her hand and gave a small smile, then inclined her head toward the two teenage boys who were looking back at her with curious interest, "—and that's Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."
Buffy shook hands with Hermione before shifting her gaze to study the two boys sitting in front. She thought both were conventionally handsome, neither was her type. The redhead was clearly the cuter one in her opinion, and somehow, she suspected that he was the provider of comic relief in their trio. Turning to regard the messy, black-haired boy with impeccably green eyes, Buffy suddenly recalled his name. "As in 'The Boy Who Lived'?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted bitterly in a deep voice. To him, fame was a double-edged sword. Actually, it was just a sword period. There was nothing about celebrity that Harry appreciated.
Buffy picked up on his discomfiture at once. "Don't worry, I'm not another fan girl. And you're not the only one with scars," she quickly added in a conspirational tone.
Harry looked puzzled by her last statement.
The redhead leaned over the back of his chair and held out his hand. "Call me Ron," he grinned warmly.
Buffy shook his proffered hand and smiled back, "Only if you call me Eliza."
Ron's face flushed to a shade matching his vibrant hair before the bell conveniently rang.
-
Ron was similarly passed out, but in a much less graceful fashion. The red-haired Gryffindor's head was tilted far back as he sat slouched against his chair with a small pool of drool collecting in one corner of his slightly ajar mouth. For several times now, Harry had to fight down the urge to stick something in his best friend's mouth for kicks. Meanwhile, Hermione was busy jotting notes in between shooting reproachful glares at their two sleeping tablemates. At last, the bell rang. Buffy started immediately, but Ron had needed several pokes on his side from Harry to wake.
Hermione shouted at a bleary-eyed Ron as they began making their way down to the Great Hall for lunch, "You are completely incorrigible, Ron. Falling asleep in class on the first day of school! What kind of example are you setting as Prefect?"
Ron, however, was decidedly unrepentant. "'Mione, you know how dull History of Magic is! Bloody hell, it's worse than watching wet paint dry!"
"Don't swear, Ron!"
Buffy and Harry wisely hung back from the arguing couple.
"Are they always like this?" Buffy asked, arching a slim, golden brow in amusement. Their bickering reminded her a little of Xander and Cordelia—and those good old days when she was only dealing with monsters of the week and everything was still so simple and clear-cut.
"No," Harry shook his head wanly, "they're usually worse."
"I feel his pain, that was the most fun two hours I've had without actually having any for a while," Buffy said as they pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
"Just be glad you didn't have to sit through six years of it, and that was only one and a half hours by the way," he replied.
"Well, it definitely seemed a whole lot longer. I thought I had stepped into a time warp again for a second," she intoned as they reached the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione were already seated and still quarrelling hotly.
Harry frowned slightly at her comment, but pushed it aside as another more pressing matter occurred to him. "Er—do you want to sit with us?" Harry asked awkwardly.
"Terribly sorry Potty, but she can't. Elizabeth has already agreed to have lunch with me," a cool voice drawled from behind them.
Buffy gazed apologetically at Harry. "Oh, yeah—I guess I'll see you later then. It was nice meeting you guys," she quickly said to him, as well as Ron and Hermione, who had stopped arguing to glare at Malfoy.
Draco smirked at Harry smugly as he draped an arm around Buffy's slender, bare shoulders. "C'mon. Best not to let this sorry lot rub off on you," he drawled and swiftly led her away.
Harry felt his stomach twist at the sight.
-
Draco patted the space next to him on the bench, eyeing Buffy expectantly. She cocked an eyebrow skeptically, but sat down as directed. He introduced the two thickset boys seated opposite them with imperious wave of his hand. "That's Crabbe," he gestured to the more mean-looking one, "and Goyle," the more gorilla-like one, who leered at her in response.
The Slayer rolled her eyes, "Your minions?"
"What gave that away? The vacant expressions or lumbering physiques?" he retorted and began filling his plate, not appearing to be bothered at all by her crack. Strangely, Crabbe and Goyle didn't so much as bristle at the jibe, either. Buffy guessed they must be too dense to catch on or hard on hearing, but her money was on the former.
"So, tell me about yourself."
Buffy sighed, scooping some salad onto her plate. Anonymity was never attainable for the 'new girl'. "Why do you want to know?" she returned guardedly.
"It's a small school. And it's not everyday that we get a Yank visitor. So, where are you from?" Inwardly, Draco was impressed. Being naturally suspicious was a classic Slytherin trait, after all.
Buffy let the question stew while she popped a grape tomato into her mouth, choosing her next words carefully as she chewed on it. Buffy had a sneaky suspicion that by the end of the day the details of this impromptu Q&A session would be all over the school judging by the way everyone at their table had been hanging on to every word.
"California."
"Why are you here at Hogwarts?"
"I was invited," she answered obviously.
Draco rolled his eyes at her evasiveness.
"How do you know Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore knows everybody."
"How old are you?"
"Why Drake! Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to ask a woman her age?" Buffy adopted a bad Southern bell accent in her reply.
Draco ignored her mispronunciation of his name, since he kind of liked how it sounded. It felt refreshing to finally meet his match in verbal jousting. Well, excluding Snape of course, seeing as the professor never directed the snark towards his favorite student.
"That's only if you're middle-aged or worse. And if that's the reason you're insulted, at least you appear to be extremely well preserved," he smirked, sweeping his gray eyes over her appreciatively for emphasis before cutting himself another bite of juicy rib-eye steak.
"Is that a compliment hidden within an insult?" She pulled a face. If only the guy knew how close to the truth his last sentence was, if she factored in the time she'd spent in Heaven and all the various hell dimensions into computing her age. "I'm seventeen."
"I'm also seventeen," he smirked.
"Wow, do you want a medal or something?" she returned with a patented eye-roll that would have made Dawn beam with pride, annoyed at being surrounded by a table full of indiscreet snoops.
The Prince of Slytherin scowled in increasing irritation. "Are you always this much of a right bitch, Ashbery?"
"Only when people are eavesdropping," Buffy responded pointedly, causing everyone else to suddenly look busy pretending not to listen. She smiled charmingly at Draco then.
"Sorry. They were really getting on my nerves."
"I suppose I can forgive you this once," Draco replied self-importantly.
The blonde Slayer resisted the urge to roll her eyes once again. Somehow, she always managed to attract the guys with big egos. It was as if she had a sign stamped on her forehead that flashed in giant, neon letters: Hey all you megalomaniacs, looking for a date? Try me! You know you want to!
"Why aren't you in school then?"
"You mean this isn't a school?" Buffy asked dryly.
Draco glared. She certainly was not making this easier. Snippy, little tart.
"You know what I mean, you silly bint. Why aren't you still in wizarding school?"
"I graduated already."
"From Salem Institute?"
Buffy decided then that he was getting too nosy for her own good. Better nip this in the bud. "Nope, from a really small one, you wouldn't have heard of it. Speaking of schools, Drake, what's the deal with the four different houses?"
Her ploy indeed distracted him. Draco frowned at her question, "Weren't you there for the Sorting Ceremony?"
"You mean that creepy, old, singing hat? I sort of zoned out," she shrugged, nonchalant.
"Well, with an attention span like that, you must have made a star pupil," he drawled snidely, watching for her reaction.
Buffy blinked a few times in response, unable to muster up annoyance at that insult. It's not like anyone had ever pegged her for an A student.
"Anyway, Hogwarts was created over a thousand years ago by four witches and wizards. The Sorting Hat places each student into one of the four houses named after the four founders. Generally, the best purebloods go to Slytherin, the smart alecks go to Ravenclaw, the wannabe heroes go to Gryffindor, and the remaining braindead rejects go to Hufflepuff."
Buffy made a noncommittal noise between bites.
Draco took a sip of his pumpkin juice, observing her table manners with a critical eye before deciding that the girl was most certainly not the product of an upper-class family. The Slytherin Head Boy was pretty certain that he could let that little snag slide as well, if she proved interesting enough. She had yet to disappoint. "So, anything else you're dying to know?"
"Yeah, actually, what's your problem with Harry Potter?"
Draco's expression turned sour at once, "You mean Saint Potter and his merry band of do-gooders? They're always sticking their bloody noses where they don't belong. Potter's the famous ringleader, Granger's the annoying Mudblood know-it-all, and Weasley's the useless sidekick whose entire family fortune is worth about as much as two Sickles."
"Hmm." Buffy pushed the remains of her salad around the plate.
Draco gazed at her curiously, "What other classes are you taking?"
"Technically, I'm not taking any. But I'll probably sit in on Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes from time to time."
The bell rang.
Draco grabbed Buffy's hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss on her knuckles as they stood. She glanced up at him, genuinely surprised by the gentlemanly gesture.
"Thanks for joining me for lunch. You have my standing invitation anytime," he gave her a flirtatious smirk and released her hand.
"Thanks, Drake. I'll see you around," Buffy said, heading for the greenhouses.
Draco watched her retreating form, enjoying the view. Maybe this year won't be so dull after all.
-
Buffy came upon a small, circular, wooden hut located at edge of the Forbidden Forest just as a huge, massive wizard stepped out of the front door, dressed in a huge moleskin overcoat. Scruffy was an understatement. He towered over the students who were already gathered round in several clusters, almost twice as tall as the average man. Most of his face was hidden behind a bushy mop of wildly tangled black hair and equally voluminous beard. The gigantic wizard also didn't feel completely human, but the warmth in his glittering, beetle-like, black eyes informed Buffy that he was not a threat.
"C'mon Seventh-yers, 'round the hut. I've got a treat fer yer firs' day o' class," the enormous wizard Buffy assumed to be Hagrid boomed in a West Country accent.
Buffy followed the others around the hut to a holding pen where a large, grubby-looking bear was pacing restlessly back and forth. Draco sidled up to her side with his trademark smirk, flanked behind by his two lumbering cronies.
"Wonder what the great oaf's prepared this time. Hope it's dangerous enough to get him sacked again," Draco whispered to Buffy, his hot breath tickling her ear and sending a small, involuntary shiver down the length of her spine.
Buffy frowned back at the Slytherin Head Boy for his blatant disrespect. Personally, she was all for flouting authority, but Hagrid looked like the poster-child for 'gentle giants'.
"Welcome back, class! This here creature's what we call a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear." Hagrid waved his meaty hands with flourish in the direction of the bear, a sunny smile lit up his face as he spoke.
Several loud gasps sounded from the group. Buffy turned to Draco in question and saw that his face had paled somewhat. Hagrid, however, continued on, appearing to be completely oblivious to his audience's sudden discomfiture.
"It's in their natures to be peaceful creatures 'less they sense fear. Now, don' let it see it scares yeh an' it won' attack," he instructed the anxious students as he unlocked the pen's gate. "Now, let's all go say hullo ter Bernard."
The students slowly filed into the pen apprehensively and stood huddled together, putting as much distance between themselves and the bear as possible.
"You named the bugbear?" Draco asked Hagrid incredulously, his voice coming out slightly less smooth than usual as a look of unease settled across his face.
"O' course, Bernard the bugbear. Beau'iful, ain't he?" Hagrid answered, unfazed as he nodded his huge shaggy head. It was then that he noticed the small blonde standing at the Slytherin's side.
"Oh, I didn' see yeh there. Miss Ashbery, innit?" his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He walked to where she stood and held out his hand. Buffy grinned up at the Gamekeeper as his massive hand engulfed hers in a handshake that ended up tugging her entire arm. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned toward the back of the crowd at the mention of her name, they hadn't expected to see the Headmaster's foreign guest again so soon.
"Please, call me Eliza."
"Hagrid's the name. It's a great honor to finally meet one o' yer kind. Thought yeh'd be bigger, though. Yer such a wee lass, really."
Buffy giggled. Somehow coming from him, the observation on her short stature didn't feel like the insult she usually hated. The blonde Slayer quickly decided that she liked him already. "I get that a lot," she admitted.
ROAR!
Buffy's head snapped in the direction of the noise, hazel eyes widening at the sight of Bernard rearing up on his hind legs and rounding on the tall redheaded boy she remembered as Ron, who was standing at the front of the throng. The petite blonde ran without a second thought and shoved him roughly to the side as a meaty paw lashed down upon them.