Who should be Buffy's new love interest(s)?
Harry Potter 7
Draco Malfoy 7
Sirius Black 4 (He's dead,
people... and staying that way. Sorry to disappoint.)
Severus
Snape 2
Oliver Wood 1
Fred/George Weasley 1
Charlie
Weasley 1
Hermione Granger 1
Should Draco Malfoy be redeemed in this story?
Yes 4
No 0
Unsure 3
Thanks a bunch to my lovely betas!
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Drunk as Drunk
Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open
kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the
strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide
it—our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal—
Over
the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.
Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox,
drowsy and tangled together And lay like fish
Under
the net of our kisses.
Pablo Neruda
(Abridged for the purposes of this story)
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16. Flowers and Chocolate
-
The light of the breaking day crept slowly through the large bay windows as the sun ascended inch by inch in the dawning sky. The tiny blonde shifted slightly as the insistently bright sunlight touched over her eyelids, compelling her to awaken. Buffy threw an arm over her eyes in an attempt to ignore the intrusion of daylight and heavy throbbing on her temples. It was a wasted effort. Her heightened Slayer senses alerted Buffy to the sensation that she was being watched. She opened her eyes to see that she was. Crud. The fact that the guy was awake definitely put a glitch in her usual tried-and-true plan of an unseen morning getaway. Stupid alcohol that made me oversleep... Stupid man who bought me the stupid alcohol... Buffy grumbled inwardly.
A gorgeous man with dark curly hair lay on his side facing her, head propped up on one hand. A mischievous expression graced his handsome, aristocratic features as he spoke to her in a lilting, rich voice, slightly rough from sleep and Buffy was instantly reminded of why she had decided to go home with him.
"¡Finalmente¡La belleza rubia se despierta!"
She admired the way his sculpted muscles rippled as he smoothed the tumble of errant strands obscuring her vision back from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear, his hand tangling in her mussed hair briefly. "¿Quieres desayunar?" he asked softly.
Buffy felt slightly hazy from the lingering effects of too much sangria as she sat up, not caring as the movement caused the silk sheets to slip down around her hips, and stretched her arms above her head lazily. She had left modesty behind ages ago. It probably also had something to do with the general feeling of apathy she currently held towards the world at large.
"Si. Y estoy en necesidad desperada del agua," she murmured, rubbing her pounding head. "¿Podemos hablar en inglés? Me duele la cabeza mas demasiado para traducir todo."
"Of course, mi belleza."
Felipe's dark eyes drank in the sight of her bare torso greedily, his long fingers reaching to lace around the soft underside of her breast. Buffy shuddered under his feather light touches. A wave of welcoming heat pooled in her belly as he leaned over to slide his mouth over hers, his teeth rasping over her bottom lip before pulling back slightly, their lower bodies pressed tightly together. Buffy could feel his erection building, pressing against the side of her inner thigh.
"Would you mind terriblemente if breakfast had to wait?" he said, voice husky with desire, not really asking as his eyes darkened with desire.
Buffy looked up into his burning stare. "I highly doubt it," she whispered, her breath coming in heavy gasps as his hand reached in between them.
-
"Find anything yet?" Ron asked for the umpteenth time.
Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward helplessly. "Sorry Ron," she muttered quickly before producing her wand from her robes.
"Hey, what are y—" Ron bristled at the sight of his best friend's wand pointed toward him.
"Silencio."
Harry snickered at the look of gaping indignation on Ron's face, which turned to a shade matching his hair in a matter of seconds. Harry had no prior experience in reading lips, but he was sure he could make out the words "bloody hell" somewhere in Ron's quiet diatribe that was orated with wild jabbing gestures at their female cohort. The black-haired Gryffindor shared a look of amusement with Hermione before turning back to his own large, musty tome that had provided him with no information of pertinence to date. He sighed and pushed himself off from the hard, wooden library chair and hefted the heavy book back to its shelf. Walking back, he peered over Hermione's shoulder to see how she had fared.
"Any luck?" he inquired with a frown.
"I'm afraid not," Hermione responded. The bushy-haired Head Girl sat back and rubbed her eyes, feeling knackered from squinting at page upon page of faded, arcane texts. She glanced at Harry with a none-too-optimistic expression. "There's probably a good reason why prophecies are magical mysteries, Harry. I doubt they'd be placed under the Department of Mysteries if any ordinary witch or wizard could suss them out." She sighed, eyes darting to Ron, who had given up his tirade in favor of glaring at her with his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. "And this is getting to be a bit of a wild goose chase. For all we know, this 'weapon' could be a toss-up of among a billion different things. Maybe you should ask Dumbledore about it during your next lesson."
Harry nodded. "You're right. Dumbledore always seems to know everything."
"And I can't seem to find even a slip on Elizabeth Ashbery," Hermione added absently.
Harry whirled around so fast that Hermione almost dropped her quill.
"You're still trying to gen up on Eliza?"
"Well of course, Harry. You heard what Trelawney prophesied about her. Even you have to admit the girl's a bit of a dodgy character."
A frown appeared on Harry's face. "I'd rather you didn't, Hermione."
"What? Why not?" Hermione's voice rose slightly higher in pitch, sounding incredulous.
"Because- because, we'd be invading her privacy for starters," Harry tried to explain his reasons rather unsuccessfully.
"Like that's ever stopped us before," she snorted.
Ron began gesturing expressively again at the turn in the conversation. Harry hastily muttered, "Finite Incantatem," lifting the silencing spell in hopes of gaining an ally in the tiff to come.
"I know what you're thinking 'Mione, but she can't be evil if she saved my life," cited Ron once he had reacquired the ability to speak.
Hermione glared at them in exasperation. "Well, I think you two are being awfully mug. Didn't the impostor Moody help Harry with his Tri-Wizard Tournament tasks? And look how he turned out," she shot back, daring them to say otherwise.
"But she's Dumbledore's guest for crying out loud—" Harry began.
"So was the fake Mad-eye Moody," Hermione countered. "Just because you two think Eliza's fit and a bit of a dish doesn't absolve her from possibly being a dark witch in disguise," stated Hermione in a tone that precluded all argument.
Harry considered his options, finally deciding to let it be, ruefully reminding himself that Hermione wouldn't be Hermione without wanting to research every little thing. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that Hermione was right about him and Ron. Harry did like Eliza, quite a lot in fact. So much that he almost didn't want to learn the truth. His mind had long ago placed Eliza Ashbery on a pedestal. Harry wasn't sure if he'd like that illusion shattered lest Hermione be correct in her suspicion.
"Fine," Harry replied flatly, not meeting Hermione's gaze and shoved his scattered school supplies into his bag with unnecessary force. "Do what you want, Hermione."
"Where are you going, Harry?" Ron asked, checking his watch. "There's still a good hour before DADA."
"I'm going to practice Occlumency," Harry informed them gruffly as he stalked off.
"Don't look now, but I think you've got him brassed off, 'Mione," Ron shook his head sadly. He froze abruptly, pivoting round to scowl at her, "Hey, I should be mad at you too for hexing me!"
Hermione propped her book further up, conveniently blocking Ron's incensed visage from view. "Not that anyone cares what I think, but I'll wager Harry was a lot better off being smitten with Ginny."
Ron didn't know what to say to that. Sure, his best friend was a great guy and Ginny had had a crush on Harry ever since forever, but Ron wasn't sure how he felt about the two of them together. The truth was, he had found himself secretly relieved to learn that Harry had broken it off with Ginny before the end of last term. Ron loved both of them to death, but he couldn't bear the thought of their relationship endangering his one and only baby sister. Was that so wrong?
-
It was a while later that Buffy apparated into her Hogwarts suite.
A high pitched squeak accompanied her arrival. Buffy started slightly at the sight of the unfamiliar intruder in her suite, but faring much better than said intruder who plummeted from its perch the fireplace mantle to the hard, stone floor with a loud thump. The Slayer reflexively sprang into a defensive stance, battle ready, as she watched the small, short creature with large bat-like ears pick itself up off the ground, gingerly rubbing its hindquarters whilst staring back at her with huge, green, tennis ball-sized eyes. Elf? was first thing that popped into her mind during her appraisal of its appearance. The small elf-like creature began trembling slightly under the intensity of her scrutiny.
"Who and what are you? And what are you doing in my room?" Buffy demanded, cold eyes narrowed menacingly.
"Do—Dobby is a house-elf, mistress. Dobby was just cleaning li—like Master Dumbledore s—says," he stuttered and nervously edged farther away. The waves of primal power and hostility radiating off the diminutive blonde was causing much distress to the house-elf.
"A house-elf?" Buffy repeated dubiously to the cringing creature, before doing a quick inspection of the state of the room. The place did seem tidier than when she had left it. Something registered from her readings and Dumbledore's tour of the castle as Buffy eyed the house-elf's ensemble of a knitted tea-cozy for a hat, a polka-dotted vest, and colorful knitted socks on its feet with a high degree of amusement. "You guys are like the Hogwarts room-service, right?"
"Y-Yes, mistress Ashbery. We hou—house-elves work for the school. Headmaster is very kind, the best employer Dobby's ever h—had," Dobby answered, his hands twisting the material of his lurid vest with apparent worry for his safety.
Buffy let a small grin spread across her face. "You can relax, Dobby. I'm not going to hurt you," she gently assured the visibly intimidated house-elf and reined in her Slayer urges.
Dobby sighed with relief, his tense stance softening slightly. Buffy walked over to the largest couch and plopped down, patting the seat next to her and looking at the house-elf invitingly.
The house-elf's face rapidly transformed from an expression of trepidation to one of simpering gratitude. "Mistress Eliza Ashbery has asked Dobby to sit! No witch has ever asked if Dobby wants to sit!" Dobby nearly burst into tears as he climbed onto the couch.
Buffy's eyebrows shot up at his hysterics. "Uh—you're welcome?" she said, patting the small house-elf awkwardly on the shoulder.
Dobby's large eyes darted to Buffy as if suddenly recalling something. "Can Dobby ask the kind mistress a question?" he inquired timidly.
"Shoot."
Dobby looked at her with a bemused expression. "Mistress wishes Dobby to shoot?"
"No, it means—" Buffy rolled her eyes helplessly. "Oh, never mind. Go ahead and ask me."
Dobby nodded uncertainly, his large ears flopping. "How did mistress apparate into Hogwarts? Dobby thought it impossible for witches and wizards."
Buffy scrunched up her nose. Damn, caught at last. "It's a really long story. Can you just keep that little fact to yourself and let us never speak of it again?" she implored.
The small house-elf's face lit up in a bright smile, "Yes! Yes! Dobby will keep the secret, mistress! Master Dumbledore told Dobby Ms. Elizabeth Asbery is special. Now Dobby knows why! Dobby will be a good elf and not tell!" he exclaimed happily, terribly excited to be of service to someone of such importance to the Headmaster.
Buffy winced at the squeakiness of Dobby's reply before asking, "Are you the only house-elf who cleans my room?" It had suddenly occurred to her that the suite might not as private as she'd thought.
"Yes, Dobby is the only one. Master Dumbledore says mistress likes her privacy."
"There's that at least," she muttered.
"Does mistress wish for Dobby to place the lilies of the valley in a vase?" Dobby asked, his innate need to be helpful overcoming the tinge of fear he still felt toward the Headmaster's strange and scary guest.
"Oh, these," Buffy looked down at the large bouquet clutched in her left hand that had been forgotten in the previous excitement. "Sure."
She watched in fascination as Dobby made a beautiful crystal vase appear out of thin air with a snap of his fingers and then scurried about arranging the large bouquet. So much of her life as the Slayer had involved dark magic and malicious spells that it was uplifting to be reminded that a simple and innocent side to magic coexisted as well.
"Who gifted mistress the beauteous flowers?" Dobby asked absently as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Buffy's bare feet made no noise as she padded into Felipe's marble covered modern kitchen, her hair dripping from the shower. He turned toward her as Buffy peeked over his shoulder to peer at the contents of the pan.
"Smells good. Need help with anything?" Buffy asked. She certainly hadn't meant to linger this long. But the guy was being so nice that she felt too guilty to follow her original plan of high-tailing it out of there as soon as possible.
"No," Felipe flashed her a devastating smile.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Actually, can you answer the door?" he amended.
"Sure can," Buffy called, already halfway to the door.
She opened the door to find a large bouquet of white lilies thrust into her face.
"Gracias," she called after the delivery boy.
"Someone got you flowers, Felipe. Should I be jealous?" Buffy teased as she rejoined him in the kitchen, where he was cutting up various pieces of fresh fruit.
Felipe let out a bark of warm laughter. "No, mi belleza. Those are for you," he reached out and stroked her cheek with a thumb.
"Oh!" Buffy's face was awash with surprise, which she quickly schooled away. "You shouldn't have," she added quietly, bringing the bouquet under her nose to whiff the light fragrance.
Felipe shot her a look, "Why not? Can't a man buy his girl flowers?"
"No..." Buffy trailed off with an unreadable expression as she continued to watch him finish cutting the omelet into square tapas before placing them onto a plate and carrying it in one hand and the plate of fresh fruit and cream in the other.
The meal was spent in contented silence in the sunlit kitchen during which Buffy was painfully aware of Felipe's observation of her.
"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" he surmised with a hint of sadness.
Buffy was caught off guard by the unexpected question, the cream-dipped strawberry paused midway to her mouth. "What? What are you talking about?"
"This is a one night stand for you, si?"
Buffy ducked her head, at a loss for words. She contemplated lying to him, but realized he was too perceptive for such petty deception. "It is." She rose from her chair and walked over to him, eyes pleading. "God, I feel like such a jerk now. You're a great guy, Felipe. I just... I'm not ready for anything serious yet. I don't know if I ever will be again..."
Felipe stood up, cradling her face in his hands. "Your heart is still taken, no?"
Buffy nodded. "You really are a great guy. And you've been wonderful all morning."
A playful smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, "Only the morning?"
She rolled her eyes, relieved by the turn to lighter things.
"You're a lovely girl. I envy the man who has your heart."
Buffy lifted her gaze upward, where the shadows of leaves blowing in the wind danced across the ceiling. "Me too," she sighed, "me too."
"Mistress?" Dobby's high-pitched voice broke through her reverie.
Buffy blinked. "A very nice gentleman—more than I deserve," she remarked with a wistful smile.
-
A soft pop sounded as the tall, black-haired wizard unhurriedly poured himself a double shot from the crystal bottle of amber liquid that seemed to encase a blazing flame at its center. "Hello, old friend," he spoke in a deep, silky voice as he turned to regard the newcomer. "Would you care for some fire whiskey?"
"Yes, please," replied the tall, hooded figure who had just materialized.
The Potions Master was quick to note the economy of movement to which the platinum blonde wizard pulled off his hood and settled into the sofa by the lit fireplace. His sharp black eyes ran over his friend's appearance critically for a second before handing Lucius a shot glass and taking a seat in the armchair opposite him. "I'm glad to see that Azkaban has treated you better than some."
"Yes, I suppose." Lucius paused, slinging an arm in a carefully calculated casual manner over the back of the couch in the perfect pose of relaxation. The warm backlighting of the fire lent an unearthly, regal sheen to the wizard's pale hair and features. "To the Dark Lord," said the flaxen-haired wizard with a slightly mocking upturn of his lips, raising his glass and draining it in a single swallow.
Snape followed suit, then set his glass down. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Lucius?" he inquired with a lazy drawl.
Malfoy shifted into a more comfortable position in his seat, as comfortable as he could get with the lingering traces of Lord Voldemort's displeasure for his debacle at the Department of Mysteries ravaging his body. To his credit, Lucius hid the discomfiture well, allowing no signs of fatigue to show through. Cold, gray eyes quickly scanned the small, private room before he spoke. "I trust you've taken the necessary precautions?"
"But of course." Severus bowed his head.
"Excellent. I have something I wish you to deliver to Draco," Lucius smiled, producing a single package of chocolate frogs from his cloak and tossed it to the Potions professor.
Snape's eyebrows rose slightly as he caught the small parcel. It only took a moment for realization to dawn as he turned it over in his hands. "I take it Draco has informed you of Filch's new Secrecy Sensors."
Lucius's pleased smile grew. "But of course."
-
Translations:
"¡Finalmente¡La belleza rubia se despierta!"———"Finally! The blonde beauty awakens!"
"¿Quieres desayunar?"———"Do you want to eat breakfast?"
"Si. Y estoy en necesidad desperada del agua...¿Podemos hablar en inglés? Me duele la cabeza mas demasiado para traducir todo."———"Yes. And I'm in desperate need of water...Can we speak in English? My head hurts too much to translate everything."