Title: Bound by Loyalty

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Harry Potter- Pretty much books 1-4.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer- Seasons 1-5 and some of season 6.

Pairings: Buffy/Sirius Black, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione

Summary: Buffy gets a letter inviting her to help teach at Hogwarts. Dumbledore tells her about the fight with Voldemort, and she agrees to help protect Harry Potter. While there, she learns things about herself that she never knew, and she finds a way to live. Meanwhile, Sirius Black can't stop thinking about the blonde Slayer that has suddenly invaded his life.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Buffy goes to Whedon, and Harry and everybody in the Potter-verse go to Rowling. If you don't recognize anyone, they're probably mine. I do own the plot, though. Don't sue. Please.

Author's note: Here's another chapter. I'm going to try to wrap this up soon, I promise. Thanks to me, JuliansGIrl, vampy the chosen one, spk, Lady Silverhawk, kisa the tiger, Siren's Call, VaMpEdChiK, renna, Buffy-CrazyaboutAngel, Nikki, The Dragon's Lady, Moony-Mione-Padfoot, Toniboo, anonymous, Serrafina, IceBlueRose, and MisterFuzzyMan for reviewing!

Chapter 19: There's Always Fate To Consider

'Listen, people, if you never listen more,

There's nothing in life to be bitter for,

If you don't get back all that you give,

Go out into the world, go out and live.

Take yourself to some place else,

Leave those who argue with themselves,

Far behind, life can at times be kind,

Fate has everything perfectly timed.

Though memories can be cruel at times,

As they shiver slowly down our spines,

These, my friend, are better days,

No matter what a part of me still says.

-Ryan Grey "To Better Days"

(Wednesday, Oct. 7)

In Sunnydale...

Humming quietly, Willow dried the plate she held in her hand and smiled. It was such a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds chirping and the house was clean. That meant she could relax for the rest of the day, lounge around until Tara got home. Placing the dish on the rack, the Wiccan wiped her hands on a dishrag and exited the kitchen.

She paused on her way to the living room, her attention caught on a picture that hung on her wall. It was of her and Oz. She had kept it to remember all that they had, and she hoped she could someday look at it fondly and not feel the stab of pain in her heart when she remembered that she used to love him. Usually she could just pass it up without noticing it, but for some reason, her gaze kept finding its way to the picture. Shrugging off a feeling of unease, Willow tore her gaze away and continued into the living room.

Willow grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, flicking through channels in the hope of finding something interesting. Like maybe Oprah, or Everybody Loves Raymond. She particularly liked his brother, and Ray's parents always succeeded in making her laugh. Quickly caught up in the story about Ray defending his daughter's Girl Scout turf, she forgot her momentarily feeling of unease.

By five o'clock, the only thing she was thinking about was starting dinner before Tara got home at six. They had a routine, and it was a very comfortable routine. On Willow's day off, she cleaned and cooked, and vice versa on Tara's day off. It worked for them, and she wouldn't change it for anything.

Smiling as she chopped up vegetables, Willow thought about Buffy. She wondered what she was doing, how things were going at the magic school. Buffy had told her about Sirius, about how she kissed him and that she was scared. Willow understood her hesitancy. After all, she didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships. But neither did Willow, never mind the fact that she had only been in two relationships. But one was a werewolf and the other a girl, so she felt confidant in saying that her love life was a bit strange. Maybe she should write to Buffy and-

Stiffening, Willow felt the tingling on the back of her neck again. It was strange, because she had usually only felt that when Oz was near. But that was impossible, because he was dead. He died a long time ago, she thought, shaking her head. Then the doorbell rang, and Willow almost dropped her knife. Frowning, she looked at the clock. 5:30. Who would be coming over so late? It wasn't Xander because he usually just walked in. Wary, she went to the door and opened it a foot.

Gasping, Willow stumbled back a step and had to grab a hold of the door so she wouldn't fall. "Oz?" She asked in confusion and astonishment.

Hogwarts...

Halloween came and went without any type of disturbance. Thanksgiving passed, and Buffy was a little disheartened when Hogwarts didn't celebrate. All was quiet, and because of that, Buffy was worried. It wasn't like Voldemort to give up, so she guessed that he was planning something. Something big. Something evil and definitely not of the good. So Buffy trained. She taught classes, avoided Sirius whenever she could, hung out with Snape, and wrote to her friends and sister. She reassured Willow that Oz was who he said he was and that she had known he was alive for only a little while. Buffy suspected things were in turmoil over on the Sunnydale front, and as much as she wanted to be there to help, she knew she had priorities, and they lay at Hogwarts.

The leaves turned brown and fell. The weather changed from warm to cold. Time went on. It was at the beginning of December when Sirius finally found Buffy and cornered her where she couldn't escape. Shutting the door behind him to her training room, he leaned against the wall and waited for her to notice him. It didn't take long. He watched her shoulder's stiffen when she stopped and dropped her leg. Turning around, he saw her eyes narrow and dart around for a way to escape without seeming like she was escaping. Without saying a word, he slowly began walking towards her, taking deliberate steps. She backed away, seemingly unconsciously. It was almost as if he was trying to get close to a frightened animal.

Her back hit the wall, and she had nowhere else to go when he reached her and caged her in by putting an arm on each side of her shoulders. The action reminded her of Voldemort for a split second before she looked into his eyes and saw the heat. Voldemort's eyes had been cold, icy. Sirius' eyes were filled with desire and something else. Something else she couldn't put a name to...

She felt a bit frightened. Fearful. Buffy didn't like that feeling, and she never had. But for some reason, the fear she felt wasn't for her own personal safety. It was for her heart. Buffy had always been the type of person to hold her heart on her sleeve. It didn't always seem like it, though. In fact, she had become quite good at hiding her feelings behind a mask. Hiding her hopes and dreams. It was surprising that she even had any hopes and dreams left after the life she had led. People looked at her and liked to think they saw a happy person. Willow, Xander and the rest of her friends had made that mistake many times, especially after she had come back from the dead. After they had brought her back. Before things went horribly wrong and her life turned into a musical. Then they had all known. They had all known where she had been, what her afterlife had been like. But by then, it was too late to change anything. All she could do now was wait, continue fighting, and hope that some day, she can go back to that peace she had felt. Go back to where she belonged. Where she had always belonged...

Buffy's thoughts were interrupted when Sirius crushed his mouth on hers. Their first kiss had held a gentleness, and tentativeness. This kiss was...more, somehow. He stole her breath, put fire in her mouth and body. She could feel it all the way to her toes. Curling her fingers in her hair, she pushed him back and reversed their positions so his back was pressed against the wall. Buffy pushed her body against his hard one, dragging her left hand down the side of his face, chest and up his shirt so that her hand contacted skin. Sirius tugged her closer, wrapping his arm around her small waist and lifting her up so that she could bring her legs around his waist. She gasped when his mouth left hers and went to her throat.

It took her a few moments and hot feelings before she remembered why they shouldn't be doing this.

"Stop," she whispered, untangling her hand from his hair. "Stop," she said more forcefully, holding her hand against his chest and pushing.

Sirius stopped, panting, and tightened his hands, which were cupping her bottom. "What? What's wrong?" He asked, shaking his head to clear his eyes.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Sirius. Not now."

"Right. And why is that?" He wondered, confused.

"Well, for one thing, we're at a school where anybody could walk in that door. And another thing, I don't want to be doing this."

Sirius furrowed his brow and looked down. "Then why are your legs still wrapped around me? It sure didn't feel like you didn't want to kiss me, Buffy."

The Slayer flushed and dropped her legs from around his waist. Disengaging her hand from inside his shirt, she stepped back and sighed. "Okay, so maybe I wanted to do that. But it's to soon Sirius. I barely know you."

"Then get to know me." He urged, stepping closer. "Come to the Yule Ball with me. It's next week, the day before the students go home for Christmas break."

"I don't know..."

"Come on. Please?" Sirius sent her his most charming grin.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy gave in. "Okay," she said. Then she grinned back at him. Who said she couldn't have fun while she was waiting?

(Dec. 16, London)

Shivering, Buffy pulled her coat closer to her body and shoved back the hair the wind was blowing into her eyes. Why does London have to be so damn cold? Buffy wondered, frowning as she passed yet another shop of clothes. Of course, she had to wait until the last minute to find something to wear. It was just that she had been so caught up in teaching and training, and she had just plum forgotten until today. She had been teaching her last class of the day when she had realized that most of the students weren't really paying attention. So Buffy had stopped, shot a grinning Sirius a look, and had stood in front of the room, arms crossed and foot tapping. It was a few minutes before the class had realized they were the subjects of intense scrutiny before they stopped talking and pretended to work on their book assignment. Buffy had just sighed and asked them what was so dang interesting. That's when she remembered that the Yule Ball was the next day, and she had felt a bit panicked. Adopting a look of nonchalance, she had dismissed them early and had snuck away, pretending she didn't see or hear the laughing Sirius, who had a knowing look on his face.

So, here she was in London looking for a dress and pretending that it wasn't important to her. If she were asked by anyone, she would have said it was an unimportant event that meant nothing to her, but on the inside she'd be giddy, like the high school girl she used to be. Growling impatiently as she passed yet another store holding clothing that she wouldn't be caught dead in, Buffy scrunched up her nose as a foul smell wafted towards her. Glancing around for the source, she couldn't find what could be causing such a bad stench, but as she got closer to an alley, it worsened to the point where the Slayer felt like gagging. Staggering backwards, she ignored the strange looks she was getting and frowned in confusion because it seemed as if no one else smelt it.

Cautiously walking closer, she took a step into the alley and immediately tripped over a small mound of dirt. Glaring at the offending mound and wondering why it looked like someone had dug a fresh hole into the ground, Buffy crouched down and hesitantly reached a hand out to dig into the mound of dirt. Some unnamable force was propelling her to dig, and dig, and keep digging until dirt caked her hands and filled under her nails. She felt like she was digging in vain, and though she wanted to stop, she had the compulsion to keep at it. It seemed as if she had hand dug a hole a foot deep before her hands came in contact with an object wrapped in a garbage bag. Curious, yet wary, the Slayer pulled it out and was about to examine it before she was interrupted.

"Hey!" Some exclaimed in an irritated voice, and Buffy looked up to see a man in a jacket that said 'London Waste Company' and realized that he probably wanted to empty the dumpster behind her. "What are you doing in her, Lady?" He asked, frowning at her in obvious disapproval.

"I just dropped something," Buffy improvised, shoving the garbage bag into her purse before smiling at him in her most charming way. "Have a nice day," she said pleasantly to the suspicious man. Hurrying away, Buffy kept the serene smile on her face until she was out of sight, and she stopped to dig out the bag. Looking around, she noticed how many people were out, despite the weather, and decided to wait until she got back to Hogwarts. Continuing down the sidewalk, she crossed the street to try her luck there.

It was two hours later when Buffy found it. It being the dress. The Dress. The dress of her fashion dreams. It was beautiful, red with gold embroidery. After checking the size, Buffy was even more convinced that it was the Dress when it revealed itself to be a size 3. "It's fate. Kismet. Karma for all the good things I've done. It's like God sent me here specifically for this dress. I can't pass it up. No way. That would be like...like denying a dying woman the alcoholic beverage of her choice. Or putting Bonnie in prison but letting Clyde go. It would be criminal! Cordelia would never forgive me." She was about to ask the sales lady if she could take it off the mannequin to try it on when she saw the other dress.

Unlike the Dress of her dreams, which had made her giddy and excited, this dress sent a shiver up her spine. And it wasn't a good shiver. It was cream colored with spaghetti straps. The bodice looked like it would be tight while the rest was made to flow. It was the dress from her dream, but not her fashion dream. Her dream she had shared with Sirius the first week she was at Hogwarts. It was so long ago, she had nearly forgotten. Buffy reached out to touch it, and everything faded away.

Harry was a mass of nerves. Bad nerves. The nervous kind of nerves. Because he was about to do what any insane guy with a death wish would do. He was about to ask his best friends sister out. Never mind that his brain was screaming at him to run like a coward. Never mind that he knew he should talk to Ron first. Never mind that his hands were sweating so bad he could barely even grip his quill as he stared across the room. He just knew that if he didn't do this now, he never would.

Standing up, Harry straightened his shoulders and set his quill down. No more procrastinating or stalling, he berated himself before beginning to march towards Ginny Weasley, who was reading a book by the fire. The other Gryffindors in the Common Room all stopped what they were doing to surreptitiously watch him. They all knew what he was doing, and they had even started a betting pool, managing to keep it a secret from any of the Weasley's, which was no easy feat.

He had gotten within three feet of Ginny before Harry abruptly turned his back on her. The Gryffindors present silently groaned and rolled their eyes, shooting each other looks and hand gestures. Angelina and Katie had a silent conversation with each other, consisting mostly of nods, head shaking, gesturing and glares. Finally, Angelina sighed and set her book down before casually approaching an oblivious Harry. 'Tripping' when she reached him, she 'accidentally' shoved him back into the couch, where he landed against Ginny.

"Sorry," she said to him, shrugging before turning away and dusting off her hands in triumph. A few Gryffindors had to get up and leave, lest they start laughing and give themselves away. The ones with more control stayed and put their books down, not even bothering to pretend they weren't paying attention anymore. Neither Harry nor Ginny noticed, however, as each were preoccupied with untangling her necklace with his. Faces inches apart, Harry stopped and looked up into Ginny's eyes and blurted it out.

"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" He asked in a rush, so that it sounded more like "Willy got to theyallball wime?" but Ginny understood perfectly because she eagerly nodded.

"Yes, I will," she said in an equal rush, but every body understood it because they silently cheered behind the smitten couples backs before they turned around. That's when they got back to pretending to work.

"Buffy, will you take the trash out?" A woman in her mid-thirties asked, stirring something in a saucepan.

"Sure Mom," the young girl replied, grabbing the garbage bag from the trashcan and trying to lift it. It didn't budge however, and soon she grew frustrated and her eyes filled with tears. She kept yanking, wiggling it around to no avail. Shooting a look at her preoccupied mother, 10-year-old Buffy's shoulders slumped. Trying one more time to lift the heavy bag, it came out easily when a masculine hand reached out and covered hers before helping her pull. Turning, Buffy looked up at her Dad. "Thanks, Daddy," she said, giving him a sad smile.

"Don't worry pumpkin," the man replied, picking her up, trash bag and all. "We'll both take out the trash, okay?" Hank said, tweaking his young daughter's nose.

"Sure," she replied, feeling happier. They exited the house, Joyce smiling fondly at their retreating backs. When they reached the garbage cans at the end of the driveway, Buffy deposited her bag and hugged her Dad. "I wanna grow up to be strong just like you," she announced, squeezing her arms around his neck.

"And you will, honey. But don't let it bother you if you're not very strong. It doesn't matter what you can and can't do. What matters is that you try your best and never give up, ok?" Hank smiled at his daughter lovingly.

"I love you, Daddy," Buffy replied with all the seriousness a 10-year-old could muster.

"I love you too, Cupcake," Hank stated, giving her a quick squeeze.

They couldn't have realized that six years later, Hank would begin to forget that love he once felt for his daughter, and by the time fifteen years had passed, it became unimportant.

Buffy's eyes shot open and a few tears escaped. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and brought the other one away from the fabric of the dress. She didn't know why she had remembered that particular time in her life. Maybe because that was when she had been innocent, when Hank had loved her. But why now? She wondered, confused. Why am I remembering that now? I had forgotten it. Is it important? Shrugging off her musings, Buffy glanced longingly towards the Dress in the window, then back to the one in front of her.

It was obvious what she had to do. The dress was here for a reason, as was she, so that must mean there was also a reason for her to buy it and wear it tomorrow. Sighing in resolve, she picked the dress up and headed to the counter. After all, she couldn't control destiny. It must be kismet, fate, for her to be here and find this dress. Stopping in mid-stride, she looked back at the perfect dress of her fashion dreams and grinned. Well, destiny never said anything about not having cake and eating it too, Buffy reasoned before grabbing the red one too. That was a kind of kismet she believed in.

Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, AKA Soon-to-be Master of the World was bored. Strange for an evil genius, he knew that. But bored he was. And also a mite bit pissed. Of course, he was taking it out on his loyal, and not so loyal, subject Peter Pettigrew, AKA Wormtail, AKA Spineless Coward Too Stupid To Live.

"I'm angry, Wormtail," he announced, flouncing into his throne room. Voldemort didn't like the verb flounce, but flounce he did, and he was willing to kill anyone who had the guts to even suggest that he did such action.

"Yes, Master," the Spineless Coward and so on sniveled, bowing before his Magnificent, All-Knowing, All-Seeing, and extremely handsome master. Well, maybe Voldemort made up that last part, because he, above anyone else, knew that his face left a lot to be desired. He also wouldn't admit that out loud to anyone, and how dare someone say so in the first place? Luckily, they were all cowards, and they never said so. At least not to his aforementioned less-than-desired face.

"Do you know why I'm angry?" He asked, and didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Because that blasted Summers twit has outwitted me again! But this is the last time. I give her no more chances. She has made a fool out of me, and if there is one thing I hate, it's being made to be a fool." Even Voldemort himself realized he was growing redundant. And theatrical. Well, he wasn't above theatrics, not if they got desired results. "She dies tomorrow, along with the Potter brat and Dumbledore."

Sweeping out of the room, Voldemort headed to his personal rooms to begin the nightly grooming process that was so important to him.

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Pointless Question: If you had to choose a fictional character to date, who would it be and why?