DISCLAIMER:  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      THANKS AGAIN to everyone who took the time to write a review; I always love reading them, and they're great motivation to keep plugging away at this (despite those irritating finals and LSAT coming up in a few weeks).

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      CHAPTER 8:

      AT BREAKFAST

      Buffy was in a good mood.  There was no other way to describe it.  She was in a good mood.  She only hoped Willow was having half as much fun at the library as she had had over the past two hours.  After more than an hour of flying, a short stretching workout, and a long, hot shower, she was feeling better than she had in a long time.  She had just finished drying off, getting dressed, and taming her hair as best she could when a bell chimed repeatedly in the distance.

      Draco was leaving his room just as Buffy came out her own door.  He cast an approving gaze at her, though Buffy could see a little hint of nervousness as well.  "'morning!" he said.

      "Morning, Draco," Buffy answered.  "What was that bell?"

      "Breakfast!" he said.  "For people who get up late, or take long showers … or long flights."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "You were watching?"

      Draco looked at her as though trying to figure out if she was kidding or not.  "'You were watching?'" he repeated incredulously.

      "Umm … is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

      Draco gave an exasperated shrug.  "Come on down to breakfast and find out," he said, and without waiting for any more discussion, turned and strode down the stairs.  Buffy followed, puzzled.

      There weren't many people in the Slytherin common room when she emerged from the stairwell.  Willow was there, a large book open in front of her and several others stacked nearby.  There were only four others in the room, and they all cast appraising looks in her direction as she came into view.

      Draco turned and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, they don't say much, but they're impressed.  They just won't admit it unless they think there's something in it for them.  The other Houses will be more … open."

      Buffy shrugged.  "I wasn't trying to attract attention, you know."

      "Oh, I know," Draco said.  "Which is part of exactly why you did.  You'll catch on pretty quickly, I'm sure."

      "Thanks, I think," Buffy answered

      "Good job," Draco said.

      "For what?"

      "It was meant to be a compliment, but it never hurts to be suspicious," he said with a feral grin.  "Especially with Slytherins."

      Buffy's shoulders sagged.  She realized Draco was trying to act natural and make light of things, but the offhand way he said that it never hurt to be suspicious was disappointing.  She could remember several friendships that had been lost, and several more that had been almost lost, by people being too suspicious.  She shrugged uncomfortably, and walked across the room to Willow, trying not to meet anyone else's eyes.

      "Hey Will," she said, plopping down next to her.  "How goes the morning study session?"

      "Not bad," Willow shrugged noncommittally.  "This actually shouldn't be too hard to get down over the summer, a lot of it is just a different way of looking at things I've been doing the whole time."

      "Uh-oh, doesn't sound like it's going to be so easy for me," Buffy replied.

      "Well, maybe not as easy as flying," Willow answered with a wry grin, "but I think you'll pick it up quickly.  You are … you, after all."

      "I am indeed," Buffy answered playfully, deliberately ignoring the fact that Willow had almost called her the Slayer; she wasn't sure if it meant anything here or not, but they had tacitly decided it was best not to bring up the subject.  "And I'm also hungry.  You?"

      "Sounds like a plan.  Just let me put these away."  Willow gathered her books and hurried back up the stairs to their room.  The other Slytherins began filing out to breakfast, and several others appeared from the different stairwells opening off the common room and headed straight for the exit as well.  Apparently the processions to the Great Hall as a group weren't required every day.  The only one who waited for them was Draco.

      Willow reappeared a few minutes later, and the three of them headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  Buffy began to understand something of what Draco had meant even before they reached the hall; indeed, they had barely gotten to the main stairwell before the people in pictures started alternately congratulating her, looking at her as though trying to size her up, or, in a few cases, asking her if she was anxious for the Quidditch season to start.

      "Those ones are the most honest," Draco said, after a few had asked the latter question.  "I guarantee you that's what all the rest are thinking."

      "But I've never played Quidditch," Buffy protested.  "Heck, I've never even seen a game."

      "We can work on that," Draco promised.  Buffy smiled.  She had no idea exactly what Quidditch was, except that it was apparently some kind of sport that everyone in the wizarding world took very seriously, as she had heard it mentioned a hundred times in the past two days.  However, she did know that Draco played, and apparently took it fairly seriously.

      The Great Hall was already almost as full as it had been the previous night by the time the trio arrived.  Buffy caught more than a few glances in her direction, from all of the House tables, as she made her way to the same seats she and Willow had sat at the previous night.

      "You're not sitting there," Draco said as Buffy paused at her seat.

      "Oh?"

      "Come on.  You're at the head of the table today."

      "Uh … what's the deal?"

      Draco shrugged.  "Status," he explained.  "We're making an impression."

      Buffy remembered what Hermione had explained to her on the train, about Slytherin being the most political of the Houses.  Nonetheless, she had been only seconds from being placed in Gryffindor, and politics were about as far from being her thing as history.

      "I think I'd rather sit here with Willow," Buffy answered flatly.  "But you're welcome to sit with us, if you'd like."

      Draco grinned, unfazed.  "Willow's coming, too, you know."

      "I am?"

      "Of course.  Flitwick stopped by the dorm yesterday night, asking to see you, but you two had gone to bed early.  But he asked me to tell you that you'd won fifteen points for Slytherin for a perfect Levitation Charm under pressure."

      "Um … thanks?" Willow said hesitantly.

      "Yeah, what's with these points, anyway?" Buffy asked.  "No one explained that to me yet."

      Draco shot them a funny look.  "You didn't have a system like that in America?"

      "Like what?"

      Draco shrugged.  "Teachers can give and take points for doing things that make your House look good or bad.  The winner at the end of the year wins the House Cup, gets the hall all decorated in their colors," he passed a gesture around the room, with all the maroon and gold everywhere, "and gets a few other perks."

      "Oh, right, I get it," Buffy said, remembering what Hermione had told them on the train the previous day; she just hadn't said that it was based on points.  She had assumed it was just a teachers' vote or something.

      Willow caught on at the same time.  "All right, so that's what Hermione meant on the train.  So what does this have to do with us?"

      Draco looked at them as though amazed that they couldn't figure it out yet.  "Five hundred points will win the Cup almost any year.  Between the two of you, we've picked up fifty-five before the school year really even starts.  That'll put you at the head of the table, prefect or not."

      "Well …" Willow wavered.  Buffy shrugged.  She really didn't care one way or the other.  For one thing, she had a feeling that it was going to be just as easy—or easier—to lose those points than it was to gain them.

      Suddenly Willow stiffened, and something seemed to occur to her.  "Actually, I think I'll just stay here, but thanks for the offer."

      Draco seemed puzzled, and even a touch angry, and Buffy couldn't quite figure out what had made Willow's decision.  Then she remembered that Willow had been looking out across the room when she had said that, and she followed where Willow's eyes had been a moment earlier.  Then she understood.  Harry was not fond of Slytherins, and looking like she was in the Slytherin 'in crowd' couldn't possibly help. 

      Buffy shook her head.  She was beginning to understand how Slytherin worked.  She had been popular too, once, a long time ago.  It was just like when the cheerleaders and jocks asked a new kid to sit at the 'in crowd' tables at lunch.  Only the Slytherins all seemed to be even more concerned about status than even Cordelia had ever been.

      "I think we'll both stay here," she said after a moment.  Draco's eyes bulged, and he shook his head.  A moment later, after he couldn't think of anything else to say, he returned to his seat at the head of the table.  Buffy looked after him wistfully for a moment.  She had been hoping that she could have convinced him to stay; after all, he had come down here the previous night.

      "I think I'm losing my appetite," Willow mouthed sadly, though she reached for a small bowl of hash browns nearby.

      "I know the feeling," Buffy answered.

      "Now, now, you should at least be thankful you can eat at all," a voice from behind them said.

      Buffy and Willow turned around.  A translucent silver figure stood between them, gaunt-eyed and dressed in regal robes stained with silver blood.  Willow gave a short shriek and dropped the hash browns with a crash.  Buffy wasn't holding anything, but she was nonetheless out of her chair and backing up in a flash.

      "'morning, ladies," the ghost said with a formal bow.

      "That's the Bloody Baron, our house ghost," one of the second-years sitting nearby explained.

      Fortunately, Willow's outburst had not been alone in the hall, though it had been the only one at the Slytherin table.  Ghosts had suddenly appeared in the hall from every direction, some rising up from tables or the floor, others emerging from the walls and ceiling.  Gradually, as it became obvious that they were not under attack, Buffy's breathing steadied.  Willow, however, seemed to be having a little more difficulty taking everything in stride.

      "I don't think they're going to hurt anyone," Buffy comforted her.  "Look at them," she added, pointing across the room at Harry and his friends.  They were talking, and indeed laughing, with a tall ghost with a rapier at his hip.

      Willow looked, and finally seemed to settle down.  "You're right," she said, finally settling back into her seat.

      "That's Nearly Headless Nick," the Baron explained from behind him.  "Arrogant little git in the last few years.  We won the House Cup for six years running before Potter got here; they've had it every year since."

      "And, being the Slytherin House ghost, whatever that means, I'm sure you were quite meek and modest during your six-year run," Buffy observed pointedly.  The Baron actually managed to look a little sheepish.  For about a moment.

      Suddenly, the bowl of hash browns in front of Willow exploded, spattering her with potatoes.  Another ghost rose from the remnants of the bowl a moment later with a sharp cackle, a rather wild-eyed figure with a ill-behaved look on his face.  "Aww, isn't she pwetty?" he mocked in a pathetically fake childish tone.

      "Peeves!" the baron snarled, but the poltergeist, hardly interested in sticking around to face the Baron, was already sprinting … or at least floating very quickly … down the hall toward the exit.

      Buffy looked across the room and suddenly saw Harry and his friends laughing, along with several others around the hall, including many of the Slytherin table.  Buffy thought of trying to distract Willow momentarily, but realized quickly it was too late.  She had looked right over at Harry the moment the potatoes had hit her, and she was mortified.

      "Willow," Buffy warned dangerously as her friend reached within her robe.  "It's all right, come on, let's just get you cleaned up …"

      Willow's eyes had gone dark and she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the retreating figure of the poltergeist.  A few of the professors at the head table had stood up, nervous or stern expressions on their faces.

      "This should be good," the Baron said behind them.

      For some reason, that made Willow hesitate.  Some of the darkness cleared from her eyes.  However, Buffy could feel that she had already built up power for a spell, and she grinned dangerously.

      "Defenestratus!" she called.

      An invisible hand suddenly seemed to lift Peeves off his feet and fling him into the air.  The poltergeist barely had time to let out a sharp, high-pitched "yeek!" before he was sent flying through one of the highest windows in the Great Hall.

      Buffy held her breath for a few more moments, then let it out explosively.  The professors who had stood at the head table returned to their seats.  Some were still as stern as they had been a moment ago, but most were shrugging it off, and a few were even smiling.

      The Baron gave Willow an amused look.  "'Defenestratus,' Miss Rosenberg?"

      Willow gave a halfhearted grin, and shrugged.  She was still covered in potatoes and flushing scarlet, though it was fading.

      Suddenly, however, a spontaneous display of fireworks erupted at the Gryffindor table, and Willow turned to see Harry and Ron setting off a small display of sparklers into the artificial sky from their place, both grinning at her with undisguised approval.  Willow relaxed, and the last of the flush faded from her face.  She began to laugh sheepishly, and shrugged in their direction with a modest smile.

      "Well, you're certainly off to a good start," said another voice from behind them.

      Buffy and Willow turned around to see a tiny, innocuous, elderly man with hair much like Dumbledore's only not quite as full.  Buffy remembered seeing him at the teachers' table moments earlier.

      "Um … hello, professor …?" Willow offered.

      The man turned a modestly reproving look back towards Draco at the head of the table, then turned back to them.  "Flitwick," he said.  "I stopped by yesterday but you'd turned in early."

      "Oh, yes, Draco told us, I just didn't know who you were," Willow explained.

      "Well, of course," he said.  He had a light, very teacherly way of speaking, although he didn't seem to take life very seriously.  "Anyway, you looked like you could use a little help," he said.  He pointed his wand at Willow, made a gesture, and mouthed, "Hygienis femina."

      Willow's skin and clothes were suddenly spotless … and her hair was perfectly arranged again on top of that.

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "What do you teach, again?"

      Flitwick gave an amused laugh.  "Charms," he said.  "Best subject there is."

      "I'm convinced," Willow said, looking herself over in amazement.

      Buffy turned to Willow.  "We are taking that, right?" she asked eagerly.  Willow gave a knowing grin.

      "I like your enthusiasm," Flitwick said.  He really did speak and move with a lot of energy, for someone his apparent age.  "Like I said, you're off to a good start, Miss Rosenberg.  I think our dear hat may be getting a little old.  I think you'd have made quite a Ravenclaw."

      "Oh, are you …?" Willow trailed off.

      "Head of Ravenclaw?  Well, isn't it obvious?" he said.

      On a second look, Buffy didn't have trouble seeing what he was talking about.  He looked very much like a scientist, only in wizard's robes.

      "Oh yes, and Moody asked me to tell you he's given another three points to Slytherin," Flitwick added in parting as he headed back to his table.

      "Nice job, Will," Buffy congratulated her.

      "I guess that … Peeves? … isn't too popular," Willow said with a hesitant shrug.

      "Bloody wanker, he is," the Baron growled from behind them, excusing himself and drifting back towards the head of the table.

      "Mail's here!" someone called.

      Buffy and Willow looked up.  The air above them was suddenly filled with a flock of owls, some carrying letters in their beaks, some with small parcels tied to their legs or gripped in their talons.

      "Nifty," Willow observed.

      "If e-mail isn't going to work," Buffy added.

      The owls all seemed to find where they were going, though Buffy and Willow noticed an owl crash-land with a loud splash into the punch bowl in front of Ron, much to his chagrin.  From the looks of the reaction of his friends, it wasn't the first time that had happened.

      Their attention was suddenly diverted, however, by an owl that had just landed in front of them, carrying a small stack of letters tied together with a piece of string.

      "Whoa, we get mail?" Buffy said.

      "Looks that way," Willow said, untying the parcel.  "Hey, it's from Giles!" she exclaimed when she read the return address.  There was no address, just the name 'Giles' in the upper left corner of the envelope.

      "Looks like a lot of the gang sent something," Buffy confirmed.

      "Are we supposed to open them now?" Willow asked, looking around to see what others were doing.  It was odd; the Gryffindors were all opening their immediately, throwing scraps of envelopes everywhere with childish abandon.  Most of the Hufflepuffs opened theirs immediately as well, though less conspicuously.  About half of the Ravenclaws did.  Most of the Slytherins slipped their letters away into their robes; some left the room immediately.

      "You know," Willow said, "not to look overly Slytherin-ish, but we might want to open these somewhere else, just in case they say anything about … you know … us."

      Buffy bit her lip.  She certainly didn't want to take the chance of opening something mentioning her as the Slayer in public, and it wouldn't look any more suspicious to leave the room than it would to be looking over her shoulder trying to keep anyone passing from getting a glimpse, like a poker player hiding his hand.

      "Fine," she said after a moment, slipping her letters into her robe.  "But you'd better not make me wait to long.  Sl … Slytherins aren't known for their patience."  She bit her lip again at what she had been about to say.  She had no idea whether or not Slytherins were known for their patience, but she had very nearly said something else.

      Willow shrugged.  "You finished?"

      "Eh?  Oh, breakfast," Buffy answered.  It had taken her a second.  She looked at her plate; she hadn't eaten much, but she was good for a while and she was much more anxious for news than food.  "Yeah, let's go."

      They excused themselves from the table and left the hall.  Buffy cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards Draco as they reached the door, but he was not looking at her.

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      COMING SOON: Chapter 9, "Mail."  Should be a short little chappie with some words of wisdom and encouragement via owl post, courtesy of the left-behind Scoobies of Sunnydale.

      SNEAK PREVIEW:

      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "You think I could get a cell phone here?"

      "International long distance and bad reception?"

      ONE FINAL NOTE … it is now 21 hours and 5 minutes to kickoff …

      LET'S GO BUCKS!!